Inspire Me
by Sayuri1
Summary: [COMPLETE AT LONG FREAKING LAST!] ﻿Life will never be the same for 18year old high school student Shindou Shuichi after he falls under the spell of his new, sexy, Japanese literature sensei. [AU] [yaoi] [Eiri x Shuichi]
1. The new sensei

Title: Inspire Me

Author: Sayuri (sayuri_tama@hotmail.com)

Title: Inspire Me

Rating: PG-13

Type: AU, romance (Eiri x Shuichi)

Spoilers: Yuki Eiri's real name

Warnings: yaoi, language, au, student-teacher romance

Disclaimer: Gravitation does not belong to me, nor am I profiting from this work.

Archive: Sure! Just ask first, ok?

Author's notes: This is my first Gravi fanfic, and is AU. It will have approximately 6 parts, give or take. Thanks for all the positive feedback I've been receiving – always nice to get some validation! ^_^ I also appreciate your patience with me while I wrap up my other projects. 

Enjoy!

~~~

"Gravitation cannot be held responsible for falling in love." - Albert Einstein

~~~

**Chapter One: The New Sensei**

"Ne, Shuichi, are you just going to stand there all day? The bell's just rung." Nagano Hiiroshi stood with his arms folded against his chest, critically eying his best friend, Shindou Shuichi, who was engaged in a serious daydreaming session.

"Hn? Nani?" Shuichi lifted his head off his arms and looked over at his friend before letting it flop back down, his forehead making contact with the metal railing he was leaning against.

The pair stood atop the roof of their drab-looking high school watching over the railing as their classmates filed in the doors to begin a new week of classes. The pair were clad in identical black high-collar uniforms with a few exceptions: while Hiiro was impeccable, and ready for another day of rules and regulation, Shuichi's collar was sloppily undone, and he sported a dangly earring in his left ear. On top of that, his hair was bleached in streaks and dyed a deep shade of red, offsetting his purply eyes which were currently concealed behind a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses. His feet were encased in perilously high platform boots with a garish red-leopard pattern and wide black laces. 

Hiiro shook his head hopelessly at Shuichi, attempting to conceal a smile. "Shuichi, if you don't get downstairs, they're going to whip out the search dogs. Come on."

"Don't wanna..." Shuichi continued to pout, his right arm outstretched and fingers chasing after a yellow butterfly which flittered in the breeze.

"Well, fine then! Don't go to school, don't graduate, don't get into a good college and become a respectable salaryman. Drop out, keep writing those sappy love songs, and wait for fame and fortune to fall out of the sky into your lap."

That got Shuichi's attention. He looked up at Hiiro, his eyes having gone all wide and watery, his nose starting to run. "Hiiro-kun! Don't be so mean!"

After blowing his nose, the boy composed himself and continued, on a more serious note. "You know that I'd never do that. I just...I just don't see why I can't do what _I_ want to, sometimes. I mean, all this math and literature - yuck! Why is there only one hour of music class every two days?" 

Hiiro shook his head again and spoke with full sarcasm and a now definite hint of a smile."Ah, yes, the injustice inherent to the system."

"Soo desu, ne? See, I'm being repressed!!" Hiiro laughed at the dramatic face Shuichi made, knowing that he caught the reference. Shuichi could be so stubborn, sometimes, so determined not to fit into the molds that others made for him. It was actually one of his most endearing qualities, and the reason why Hiiro had originally been drawn to the outlandish youth back in primary school.

Giving up, Hiiro reached over, latched onto Shuichi's forearm, and drug him along the roof to the stairs and down toward their homeroom.

"Come on, baka, we're late. And if sensei gives us flak over it, you're taking all the blame, *Shu-chan.*" 

***

Guiltily sneaking in ten minutes after the bell, Shuichi and Hiiro slunk across the classroom and took their seats in the back row, receiving dirty looks from the assistant principal, Tanaka-sensei, who was standing in front of the room with a man neither of them had seen before.

"As I was saying, class, before your classmates decided to grace us with their presence, this is your new homeroom teacher and Japanese literature sensei, Uesugi Eiri-san."

The new sensei surveyed the class before speaking, nodding first to Tanaka-sensei, then bowing politely to the class. "Hajimemashite, minna-san."

From the back row, Shuichi thought that there had never been a voice so perfectly suited to its body before. The tones were rich and smooth, the rhythm of the speech unaccented and flawless in its execution. As for Uesugi-sensei's looks, he was impressive enough to give rise to giggles from various females in the class, and with good reason. He was tall and blonde, with sharp gold eyes and a somewhat cool, business-like air about him. His navy suit was pressed neatly, and although he wore no tie, he looked very professional, and Shuichi groaned as he realized that this was undoubtedly the type of teacher who expected a lot from his students. And in literature, his worst subject!

As the various appraisals went on, the class neatly replied, "Hajimemashite, Uesugi-sensei."

Tanaka-sensei looked around the room once more before turning to Eiri and muttering under his breath, "Good luck, Uesugi-san. There are some real slackers in this class." With that, he turned and left the room.

Eiri stayed silent for a moment, ignoring the stares, scoffs, and giggles, and simply unpacked his briefcase, placing a single book on his desk. "I understand you have been reading Sosei Natsume's "Kokoro" with your temporary teacher. I will be continuing our study of this book until I am satisfied that you have mastered its intricacies."

The announcement was greeted with open moans from Shuichi and several others, who had practically jumped for joy when their previous teacher had abandoned their study of the volume, instead being content to allow the class to devote their time to "independent study," consisting mostly of gossiping and swapping mangas, and for Shuichi, writing song lyrics. Shuichi's head hit his desk as he realized that there was no way this new guy would let him pass in his "songs" for extra-credit. 

"Yamashita-san, can you tell me what is the source of Sosei-sensei's increasing pessimism in 'Kokoro,' as compared with his earlier work, 'Wagahai wa neko de aru?' "

"I...I don't know, sensei." The girl stammered, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Slightly irritated, Eiri moved up the list to another name: "Okay...Kurozawa-san, how did Sosei-sensei illustrate the difficulties in searching for morality?"

The tough-looking boy had a cocky grin on his face and took pride in replying, "I don't know, sensei."

"Anybody?" The sensei's question was met with a nervous silence. Placing the class list back on his desk next to the novel, Eiri sat down at his desk, slight agitation clear on his face. "Did anyone here even _read_ the book? Or are you all too busy killing your brains with pop music and video games to study?"

After another few awkward moments, Eiri continued, his voice low and dripping with contempt. "This is your language, it's fundamental to all communication you undertake. How can you function as members of society if you can't grasp its richness? These aren't just some wishy-washy shoujo mangas we're reading here, it's art. Literature is language at it's most expressive, its deepest. If you aren't willing to look beyond your own small minds to encounter it, there is very little I can teach you." 

In the back row, one student wasn't cowering like everyone else, in fear of the wrath of their new sensei, but rather, was leaning over his desk, as if pulled toward the angry man. Shuichi was spellbound by not the off-putting tone in the man's voice, but by the fierce blaze in his cool golden eyes. There was a passion there that Shuichi had only seen in one other place: on his own face, when he watched himself in the mirror performing one of his own songs, belting out into his hairbrush microphone and oblivious to the world outside his own rhythm. 

As Shuichi watched his sensei, he knew that if there was beauty, it was in front of him, running a pale hand through silky light-brown hair and absentmindedly lighting up a cigarette at his desk.

Reaching inside his desk and pulling out a ratty notebook and a pen, Shuichi began to write furiously. He found his inspiration. Uesugi Eiri was going to be his new song. 

  
  
  


~~~`~,~@

  
  



	2. You need me

Author's notes: Thank-you so much for the positive reviews! ^^ This is my first Gravi fanfic, and it's AU, so I wasn't sure how it would go over. Part three is in the works, and should be posted within the next week.

  
  


~~~

"Gravitation cannot be held responsible for falling in love." - Albert Einstein

~~~

  
  


Chapter Two: "You need me."

  
  


At the sound of the bell, the students of room 3-C hastily exited the room, murmuring amongst themselves and casting sidelong glances at their new sensei. As for Eiri, he calmly sat in front of the blackboard, chair leaning back and feet propped up on top of his desk, a growing pile of cigarette butts on the floor. 

Not hearing anything outside his own song, Shuichi remained in his chair scribbling frantically as the room emptied. Noticing the scowl which the sensei now directed at the redhead, Hiiro quickly tossed a balled-up wad of paper at his friend. As the jettisoned math homework bounced harmlessly off his shoulder, Shuichi's head jerked up to find an amused Hiiro rolling his eyes and pointing at the door. Slamming his songbook shut, Shuichi flushed as red as his hair and scampered out of the room after Hiiro, who, like every other student in the class, broke into a round of fierce complaints. 

"My god, what a hardass. We're actually going to have to *work* in that class, from now on. Not that that's really a bad thing, but Kobayashi-sensei was such a pushover, ne?" Slamming his locker door shut, Hiiro looked over at Shuichi, whose eyes were glazed over and was absentmindedly swaying back in forth to the beat of some unheard tune. Hiiro snapped his fingers twice in his friend's face. "Oi, Shuichi! Are you listening to me? What do you think of the new sensei?" 

Oblivious, Shuichi hummed to himself as he practically skipped toward the cafeteria, only half-listening to the comments buzzing in the air around him.

"Ne, did you see that? He was *smoking* in class! Kakkoi!"

"He had his feet up on the desk! And did you see those shoes? He's got taste!"

"Michiru, you're such a loser - the last thing I was looking at was his *feet*!"

"What's with all that "art" shit? It's just a damn book." 

"He was so angry! What in hell did we ever do to him?"

"Maybe he's unhappy. His eyes...they looked so sad, when he was sitting there. I don't think he was really angry at all." 

Five heads snapped to Shuichi's direction as the words quietly passed his lips. Hiiro eyed his friend with curiosity - there was a look there, an odd glow that he wasn't used to seeing...

"Hey, what does he have against pop music and games, anyway?" 

***

Uesugi Eiri was on the prowl. 

At each recess and break since first period, Eiri had been scanning the crowded hallways for that kid with the outrageous hair who had doodled his way through his entire morning lecture. While his dim-witted classmates had cowered at Eiri and spent the rest of the period reading through "Kokoro," that redheaded baka was so intent on scribbling away that hadn't even noticed when the bell had rung. If that punk thought that Eiri would take that kind of disrespect in his own class, he had another think coming.

As Eiri rounded a corner that led to the entrance to the music room, a stream of excited high-pitched babble reached his ears. "Wai! Wai! Only two more days!!"

Target in sight.

"You. Freak-haired kid."

Used to comments about his appearance, Shuichi automatically stopped dancing in the hallway and wheeled around, coming face to face with a cross-looking Uesugi Eiri. He gulped slightly, and replied, "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. You're the only one I see around here with a hack dye-job like that."

Looking down at his boots, Shuichi could feel the heat rise to his cheeks, and couldn't think of a reply. Eiri didn't seem to care, as he plunged ahead with his questions. "What is your name?"

"Shindou Shuichi, sensei."

"Well, that explains a few things..." Eiri muttered under his breath, taking in the sight of the sloppily dressed boy before him. Eiri was no fool, he hadn't waltzed into the classroom blind. He had taken the last few days to review the files of every student in both his homeroom and Japanese class, and his interest was piqued by one file in particular:

  
  


Name: Shindou Shuichi, 18. 

Average: Literature: C-; Maths: C; Science: C+; History: B-; Gym: B; Music: A+

Notes: Shindou-san is a dreamer, and has a tendency to pay very little attention during class time. Was suspended twice last year due to repeated blatant violations of the school dress code. It is on the strong recommendation of his music teacher that Shindou-san be permitted to continue with after-school club activity, band, despite his poor academic performance. In spite of his low grades, he does demonstrate serious dedication to his music, and as such, he has been permitted to turn in lyrics for extra-credit literature assignments. He continues to work with a student tutor, Nagano Hiiroshi, in Science and Maths.

  
  


Eiri had frowned when he read that: it seemed as if a lazy student was being allowed to indulge in his pointless fantasies while wasting the resources of the school and it's teachers. And standing here before him decked out like an idol singer was proof positive that such methods had failed. The fact that the student was being given the chance to turn in "lyrics" as literature assignments hadn't impressed Eiri, either, and it was this sort of coddling that he was now determined to stamp out. 

Better that the kid learn early: nothing good comes from wasting time on stupid dreams.

"Well, Shindou-san. Let's just see what it is that kept you from working in my class." With a swift gesture, Eiri reached out and seized Shuichi's notebook, flipping through the pages until his eyes fell on the scrawlings on the last pages. Ignoring the sounds of protest made by the boy, Eiri skimmed the words, their implications not lost on him.

/Smoke swirling around golden hair

and passing through your full lips.

Voice with a raw edge

passing judgement and professing art.../

  
  


Retaining a loose hold on composure, Eiri cleared his throat and slipped the notebook into the side pocket of his briefcase. "This is supposed to be a song?"

"H-hai, sensei." 

"It's terrible. You'd be better off writing obscene graffiti on the walls in the bathroom. Don't think, Shindou-san, that you can continue to waste my time in class. I expect a fifteen-page composition on the main themes of 'Kokoro' on my desk Friday morning. When I get it, you can have back this pathetic excuse of a songbook."

Shuichi practically fell over backward, instead leaning against Hiiro for support as he sputtered, "Na--nani?! I have a recital with the music club before then, I can't write an essay, sensei, I have to finish the lyrics and arrangement..."

"Then I suggest, Shindou-san, that you re-evaluate your priorities."

Turning his heels and heading for the faculty lunch room, Eiri wore a mild smirk, unsure of exactly why he was getting so much enjoyment out of tormenting his student.

***  
  


"Hiiro, he hates me!" Shuichi wailed, pounding his hands down on the keyboard in frustration for the umpteenth time since their practice began. Hiiro stopped his strumming and put down his guitar, walking over to his exasperated friend, hoping to get Shuichi to focus on rehearsing and forget about Uesugi Eiri and his bastardly unfairness.

"Calm down, Shu. A lousy essay's not the end of the world. There's going to be another recital at the end of term, anyway." Hiiro's hands were firmly planted on Shuichi's shoulders, anticipating an explosion. 

On que, Shuichi wriggled free and began flailing his arms wildly, anger and frustration boiling over. 

"THAT'S NOT THE POINT AND YOU KNOW IT!!!"

Taking a few deep breaths, be suddenly sobered, his eyes holding back tears which threatened to spill over. 

"This recital was going to be *it* for us, Hiiro! It's been advertised, three schools are participating, and who knows what kind of talent scouts or agents might be there?! This was our shot to prove to everyone, to our teachers, to our parents, to the WORLD, how good our music is!! I mean, once those record company guys see us, neither of us will have to worry about getting respectable jobs, right?"

Hiiro was startled by the emotion in Shuichi's usually whiny voice. *This* was the Shuichi that others rarely got to see, the one behind the genki front, the one who was visible only when he sang. 

"This is going to happen for us, right Hiiro? It's got to, I've got to be good at something..."

Regaining a hold on Shuichi, Hiiro drew him into a quick embrace. "You are, baka! This is just another little bump in the road, right?"

Shuichi sniffled, and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. "No, Hiiro! It's too much, this time! It's been just one "little bump" after another, stretching back since we were kids, you know? Like the time I got tonsilitis and couldn't sing for six weeks, or you fell out of that tree and broke your fingers..."

"Shu, that was ten years ago..."

"...or the time when my mom grounded me and we couldn't practice for a month, or when your sister snipped your guitar strings..."

"Water under the bridge, right?"

"...or like when you quit the band and ran off after some girl, leaving me here to wallow in self pity, drowning my sorrows in the bottle, wasting away my youth and beauty..."

"Shu, that hasn't happened yet!" Laughing, Hiiro cuffed Shuichi on the back of the head. As depressed as he ever got, nothing could keep the redhead from being silly for too long. 

"The point, Hiiro, is that our luck freakin' stinks! When can we ever get a break? I'm going to go crazy sitting around in this school!!"

Hiiro thought on that for a minute. "Well, maybe...as much as I don't like to say it, Shuichi, maybe fate is trying to tell us something about our music."

After a second of mutual silence, Shuichi suddenly leapt up, right arm extended victoriously. "Hiiro, that's it!"

"What's it? The unconquerable Shindou Shuichi, budding J-pop idol, wants to quit?"

"No, you dumb baka! 'Bad Luck!' The name of our band!" 

"You're hopeless, you know?" Hiiro laughed as he considered the depressingly appropriate name before flashing Shuichi a smile. "Sure, why not?" Reaching inside Shuichi's bag, he grabbed the ever-present box of strawberry pockey, tossing a stick at Shuichi and raising his own high in the air. "A toast! To 'Bad Luck!'"

"To 'Bad Luck'...and to Uesugi-sensei, choking on his own self-righteousness!" Shuichi cried. Scarfing down his pockey, he mumbled with his mouth full, "Who does he think he is, anyway? Fifteen pages!!"

"Erm...the teacher?"

"Yeah, he's the *teacher,* not a god. I'm going to set him straight!!!" 

"Shuichi! You can't just go barging into the man's house...." Hiiro found himself talking to an empty room, sheets of paper flittering to the floor after having been swept up in the wind left by the rush of Shuichi's feet storming out of the rehearsal room. 

"Baka."

***  
  


*drip* 

...........

*drip*

...........

*drip*

Eiri sighed into the silence of his dark apartment, counting the intervals between the drips leaking from the kitchen faucet. He lay on this back on the black couch, an ashtray sitting on his chest and can of beer sitting on the floor within reach. Inhaling deeply and closing his eyes, he relished in the feeling of the nicotine spreading throughout his body, giving him a mild rush and mingling with the alcohol to dull his senses. 

The apartment was new, and already had a stale smell from the lack of circulation and the constant smoke which rose from Eiri's cigarettes. The only room which looked lived-in at all was his office which was littered with a mess of scattered papers, while the rest of the place was Spartan in decoration; his refrigerator contained a six-pack of Budweiser and not much else; the boxes from his move largely unpacked and collecting dust.

He sighed as his mind strayed to the unfinished manuscript stored away on his laptop. Well, the hastily assembled half-manuscript, anyway. It was all planned out, waiting for his hand to finish the work. It would be a great story, an inspirational tale of struggle, pain, and of course, love. 

Eiri laughed into the silence. Struggle and pain were two things with which he was well acquainted, growing up in a rigid household and forever trying to mold himself to someone else's image. But love? While he knew that had strong connections to his family, especially his younger sister and brother, what he knew about actual romantic love wouldn't fill a page, and it was perhaps for this reason that his work remained locked away on his hard drive and in his heart, not fully realized and not shared with anyone. 

Of course, there was the more pressing reason:

//"A writer?! The only way you're leaving here, Eiri, is if I can be assured that you will pursue something practical. I will not have my oldest son and heir running half-cocked around the world drinking and indulging in fruitless dreams!"// 

A secondary-school Japanese teacher seemed practical enough for his father, so a temporary loan and a blessing later, here he was in Tokyo, free for the first time in his life and completely miserable. 

Well, not completely. Writing was the only thing he really gave a damn about, anyway, so taking the job as a literature professor was bearable, even if he was less than passionate about it. In truth, he couldn't really care less about the little shits he had to baby-sit all day, but it paid the bills, kept him fed, and kept him away from his father and that damned temple. 

Good enough. 

Lighting up his fourth cigarette in a row, Eiri found his mind wandering back to that morning, and the flightly boy with the red hair. Reaching over to the briefcase on the coffee table and withdrawing the well-worn notebook, he absentmindedly flipped through the pages, skimming over doodles, half-written phrases and cliche rhymes, settling on the characters hastily written on the final page: 

/Smoke swirling around golden hair

and passing through your full lips.

Voice with a raw edge

passing judgement and professing art.

Eyes bright like the sun

golden orbs filled with fire,

warm beauty and cold passion,

transparency betraying your detachment.

Your energy I can't explain;

this longing to touch I can't understand.

If seeing you is a dream

I don't want to wake up.../

The simple words, though stylistically trite, unnerved Eiri to the core.

Was this what that boy really saw when he looked at him? "Eyes bright like the sun?" "Warm beauty and cold passion?" "Transparency?" Eiri snorted and let the notebook fall from his hands onto the floor. He was neither beautiful nor passionate, and no one had *ever* claimed to be able to see past his icy masks which he himself ensured were always firmly set in place. Just who was this kid, anyway? And why on earth did he want to "touch" him? 

For the briefest of moments flashes crossed Eiri's mind of that skinny teenager's hands running over his back, of those wide purply eyes staring up at him and bubblegum pink lips crying his name, of limbs entangled and finger's twined in each other's hair...

Eiri didn't have much time to consider this momentary flash of seeming insanity, however, as his thoughts were sharply interrupted by the insistent buzzing of the doorbell. Cursing, Eiri stubbed out his cigarette, lifted the ashtray off his chest, and got off the couch for the first time in three hours. Padding across the hardwood floor barefoot, Eiri shook his head to clear his thoughts and wondered who the hell was disturbing him this late - after all, he was new in town, and hadn't exactly made any friends. In fact, he'd barely met anyone, save his colleagues at school and next-door neighbor, an elderly lady who smelled of cats and mothballs. 

Pressing the intercom button, he was greeted with the last voice he expected to hear: "Uesugi-sensei? This is Shindou Shuichi. May I please come in?" The voice was harsh and urgent, and something instinctively told Eiri that if he were to refuse, he would be treated to repeated buzzings of the doorbell all night. 

"Hai. Apartment 658."

As Eiri took stock of the situation and glanced quickly around the flat, he felt himself more than mildly irritated: after all, he was in no mood to entertain, especially not a pesky talentless red-haired punk. For starters, it was after 10:00 pm, and he was clad in his usual home clothes: loose grey sweat pants, a large but comfortable blue button-down shirt that he'd had forever, and no shoes. His hair was messy from lounging around on his sofa, and he was wearing his thick reading glasses, not his contacts. Well, on the bright side, he thought, perhaps this Shindou Shuichi would stop thinking he was "beautiful." 

As for Shuichi, he couldn't care less what he looked like after clamoring half-way across town: pure anger propelled him up the stairwell, his feet pounding fast on the stairs and the blood pumping hard in his veins. Rounding the corner on the six floor and coming to a racing halt in front of 658, he reached up and pounded on the door. 

A long moment later, the door slowly opened, revealing a very cranky-looking Uesugi Eiri.

"What do you want?"

Breathless from running up the six flights of stairs, the boy glared up at Eiri, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead, anger clear on his face. Decorum was forgotten as he gazed up into the eyes of the man who had humiliated him and threatened to come between himself and the one thing that gave his life any focus. 

"I want to know what right you have, *sensei,* to take my music away from me."

//What the hell was with this kid?// His gold eyes boring into Shuichi's with a glare that could kill, Eiri answered in a cold voice that was anything but inviting. "I should have known. Get in here before you wake the neighbors."  
  


***

Shuichi was pissed off. 

After rudely being hauled into the apartment and deposited on the couch, he was ignored by his "host" until a cup of horrible lukewarm tea was thrust into his hands. His question ignored, Eiri had returned to the kitchen and proceeded to down a beer while waiting for the boy to calm down. Standing in the kitchen, Eiri called out to his "guest" in the living room: "The tea good?, in a tone that implied he couldn't care less how the hastily prepared tea was. 

Rudely slamming down his mug next to the ashtray, Shuichi replied, "Fine. Now where is it?" 

"What, this?" Casually, Eiri walked over to the coffee table, snatched up the book, and waved it in the air, flipping through the pages and ignoring the veins which pulsed dangerously on the boy's face. 

"Yes, that!"

"Rather interesting subject matter, isn't it?"

Shuichi flushed as red as his hair, and suddenly found the pile of beer cans on the floor fascinating. "Um...yeah."

"Is this supposed to be me?" Eiri stopped his pacing and stood over the boy, his tone deadly. 

"..."

"It is. You wrote this crap love song after watching me yell at the dimwits in class and have a smoke. In case you hadn't noticed, baka, I'm a man."

Against all probability, Shuichi flushed even brighter. "I...I noticed."

After a moment's silence, Eiri sat down in the grey armchair opposite his student. "What do you want, Shindou-san?"

Plucking up whatever courage he had, Shuichi took a deep breath and plunged ahead. He tore his eyes away from the beer cans and looked up at his sensei, determined to not be afraid of the vicious tone and the boiling eyes. "It's Shuichi! And what I want is pretty simple: you."

Genuinely surprised, Eiri managed, "Excuse me?"

Emboldened, Shuichi continued, now transfixed, and reminded of the feeling which had come over himself the moment he first spied Uesugi Eiri. "There's something about you. I want...I want to look at you, to talk to you, to know you...I want you to be my song."

Slighly intrigued and determined not to show it, Eiri slowly replied, "Why should I help you?"

Looking around the Spartan apartment, Shuichi had a ready answer: "Look at this place! Where's the color, the life? You need me, Uesugi-san. You need my music. And I need you."

The more familiar honorific wasn't lost on Eiri's ears, the loss of the term "sensei" representing a wall that was rapidly crumbling. What was more unnerving, however, was the final admission // "I need you."//

"I need your pathetic attempts to grate out a song about as much as a hole in the head." //And I certainly hope you don't need me...dumb kid...//

Shuichi stood up and made for the door, the man's harsh words piercing him like a knife. Unwilling to admit defeat, however, he turned and faced the older man, presenting the challenge that he was sure not to lose: "Listen to me sing. Don't give me this assignment, and come to the recital. After that, if you still think that I'm wasting my time, I'll write you fifty pages about that book."

From his position in the armchair, all Eiri could do was nod slightly in acquiescence as his student stared him down and confidently marched out the door. The rattle of the door on its hinges after Shindou had slammed it echoed in Eiri's ears as the silence of the empty apartment descended upon him once again. As he reached for his cigarettes and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, he could only think one thing: what on earth had he gotten himself into?

Walking back to his parent's house, Shuichi paused and looked back to the sixth-story window and made a solemn vow: "I'll prove myself to you, Uesugi Eiri."

~~~,~`~@


	3. It's my life

a/n: Okay folks, here's part three! Sorry this took so long _ It's actually growing to be a *much* longer story than I originally thought, so I'm not sure when it'll get completely wrapped up...hopefully soon. Two warnings go with this part: first, I wrote my first attempt at a song for the concert scene. Granted, it's *supposed* to suck because it's poor Shuichi's amateurish attempt, but...well, it's not exactly genius. Raw tomatoes welcome ^_^ Second, it plods along a bit in the beginning, but I think that it improves considerably toward the end. Hope you stick it out!   
  


Chapter Three: It's my life

"Ohayou gozaimasu, minna-san." Uesugi Eiri entered the classroom, cool and business-like, mentally prepared for a second day of babysitting a group of morons. 

"Ohayou gozaimasu, Uesugi-sensei." The class politely replied, somewhat wary of their new teacher. In the back of the class, Shuichi replied heartily, hoping to catch the man's attention. After last night's encounter at the sensei's apartment, Shuichi had gone to bed with a new purpose: prove to Uesugi Eiri that he wasn't an idiot, a freak, or a pest, and to earn his respect as a talented musician. Beyond that, he had the strong desire reach out and help his cold sensei. He had meant what he said last night, that the man needed Shuichi and his music, if only to add some brightness to his grey life. 

Without further comment, Eiri opened his briefcase and unloaded its contents on the desk. As he casually walked over to the coatrack in the corner of the room to take off his neatly pressed navy suit jacket, he couldn't help but cast Shuichi a sidewise glance, gesturing back to the desk with his eyes. Startled by the unexpected eye contact, Shuichi followed Eiri's line of vision to the desktop, where his well-worn songbook lay. 

Shuichi groaned, dropping his head into his hands, wondering how he could have been so stupid. He was so worked up last night at the man's arrogance that he hadn't even bothered to take back his notebook before leaving the apartment! Worse yet, now it appeared that Uesugi-sensei was going to delight in waving the captive book under his nose.

"Now, class, I trust that you are all ready to get down to work after yesterday's pathetic display of ineptitude." Eye's glittering, he continued. "I have prepared a short story for you to read this morning. Ishida-san, could you please distribute these?" 

*Mami-chan's Day Out?!* One boy exclaimed, disbelieving. 

"Sensei, is this a joke?"

Eiri glowered from behind his desk. "Hardly. If you behave like children, you will be treated as such. I want all of you to analytically read this story, after which we will discover how much you have gleaned from it. When we have finished, we can discuss moving on to something more stimulating." 

After a few minutes of silent reading, mutters could be heard coming from around the class, ranging from "This book is stupid!" to "Why did the kid get lost, anyway? It doesn't make any sense..."

Looking up from his newspaper, Eiri silenced the room with a word. "Read!"

***

"Now, Kuruzawa-san, since you had so much trouble with Soseki-sensei's work yesterday, perhaps you can manage to answer a simple question about today's reading? Why did Mami-chan cross the road?" Eiri sat on the edge of his desk and smiled sadistically at the jock, who now looked as if he wanted to crawl under his desk. 

"Because she was...chasingpinkbutterflies,sensei." 

"Good. Now, can anyone tell me what Mami-chan's special nickname for her stuffed bunny was?"

Michiru raised her hand defiantly, speaking without waiting for Eiri's acknowledgment of her. "Ano...sensei, this is degrading."

Eiri surveyed the class and smirked. "Exactly."

***

When the noon buzzer rang, Shuichi heaved a huge sigh of relief. The morning had been painful, from start to finish, and he suspected that few would cross Uesugi-san anytime soon. Not including himself, of course. Shuichi had every intention of getting under the man's skin, if even for his own good. 

With this in mind, it was first imperative to rescue his songbook, as the concert was tomorrow night and the lyrics for the melody he had put together were largely unfinished. Shuichi waiting until all the other students, save Hiiro, had fled the classroom before boldly approaching the desk where the sensei sat, a mild look of amusement on his face. 

"Uesugi-san? Er... sensei?"

Eiri didn't look up from the papers he was arranging. "What is it now, Shindou?"

"My book. I didn't take it with me last night, and I was wondering if, um..." Shuichi trailed off as the man looked up and their eyes locked.

"What?"

Shuichi shifted somewhat uncomfortably and continued on, determined to win this round. "I would like it back, please. I need it to get ready for the concert tomorrow night."

"Why? You need to light a small fire to keep yourself warm until then?"

Before Shuichi could return the blow, their exchange was interrupted from behind. 

"Shuichi, don't beg from him. It makes you sound pathetic." Hiiro eyed the teacher with contempt, tugging on Shuichi's sleeve. 

"But Hiiro..." he protested, pulling back.

"Let's go. We can make do with what we have." Pushing Shuichi along and out the door, Hiiro cast a smug look back over his shoulder at Eiri. "He's probably enjoying your lyrics too much to let it go, anyway."

Down the hall, Shuichi wrenched himself free from Hiiro's grip. "Hiiro, what am I supposed to do, now?!" 

"Deal." Hiiro grinned as they headed toward the lunchroom. "Our final practice is tomorrow afternoon, and I'm sure you can throw together something fabulous by then."

***

A day and a half later, Shuichi was no more convinced that what he had "thrown together" was going to wow the audience than he had been when he'd conceded defeat over the songbook. 

"What in hell is wrong with that man?" Shuichi asked aloud, shaking his head as he rummaged around in his closet searching for something to wear to tonight's recital. "He's such a prick, but yet..." he trailed off, debating between his red leopard print boots or his blue sneakers. "It's his eyes, Oliver." He addressed his battered teddy bear while sitting on the floor and struggling with the boots. "There's something about his eyes, something so sad and lonely. His apartment the other night was horrible, no colors at all." 

Getting to his feet, Shuichi frowned into the full-length mirror. He saw staring back at him a skinny, short boy, too slender and wide-eyed to be handsome, but too wiry to be "bishounen." His mop of hair was a deep red with lighter shades of red overlying streaks of bleach, his eyes an unusual shade of purple; the silver earrings, overly involved pants, and red leather gloves he wore serving to further complicate his image. "Well, he's got one thing right - my hair *is* kinda funny."

Struck with inspiration, Shuichi ran to the pharmacy down the street to grab supplies before sequestering himself in the second-floor bathroom. After patiently extracting the last traces of red dye from his hair, he completed the bleach job and calculatingly added what was undoubtedly his wildest hair color yet to his head. Satisfied, he moved to his room to find something to wear that would offset his new look. 

Slipping out of his clothes, Shuichi settled on basic black. While he would have preferred something a bit more colorful, he knew that his hair would attract enough attention on its own, and besides, sometimes there is something to be said for simplicity. Black bitch boots, tight leather pants with many unnecessary straps and a thin red belt provided the bottom half of his outfit, while he went for something a bit more risque for the top. A sheer short-sleeved black shirt which rode up enough to reveal a wide strip of pale skin served as the base, while black fingerless gloves stretched to his upper arms for accentuation. 

All topped off, of course, with his rose-tinted sunglasses and a shock of bright pink hair. 

Shuichi grinned at his reflection as added a slightly garish red leopard-print choker to complete the ensemble, and employed all of his willpower to prevent himself from flinging his sister's old red boa over his shoulders to liven things up a bit. 

Stomping down the steps to meet Hiiro, he couldn't help but giggle from excitement. Tonight, he thought, was it. 

***

"My God, what a circus." Hiiro muttered, clutching his guitar and surveying the chaos backstage. Shuichi and he had arrived at their appointed time and had joined the queue for the stage, nervously listening to act after act perform ahead of them, and watching the various dramas unfold around them. There were last-minute jitters - some resulting in some rather unpleasant bouts of upset stomach - a few tears as performances flopped, a band breakup five minutes before they were due onstage, and a whole score of anxious friends and parents buzzing around psyching up the acts. In sum, it was a madhouse.

"It's crazy back here! Look at that!" Hiiro gestured over to a small fire which had started in the corner where a girl band were slapping on make-up with a trowel. The blaze was quickly stamped out by the music teacher, who was fast approaching a nervous breakdown. 

"It's great, ne, Hiiro!" Shuichi squeaked, as he heard his name announced onstage. "Come on, they're waiting for us! Come on, come on!" Reaching out and grabbing Hiiro's arm, Shuichi pushed his way toward the stage. As the crowd came into view, however, he froze. "Hiiro...there's so many people out there..."

"What? Come on, it's our turn!" 

"Hiiro, I don't know if I can..." Shuichi swallowed a huge lump in his throat. "I...I..." Suddenly panicking at the thought of hundreds of people listening to the lyrics he had somewhat hastily re-written this morning, he fought back a wave of nausea. 

Hiiro looked back at his friend, who, so normally confident, was trembling slightly. "Shu, listen to me. You are great. You heard those other groups, they are nothing compared to us. We can do this! We've earned the right to be on that stage and to have everyone scream as they hear our song! Now let's go!"

Shuichi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to three. "You're right Hiiro. We've earned this." Smiling confidently, Shuichi clapped Hiiro on the back and took the stage. The auditorium was filled to overflowing with audience members not only from this but three other schools, and there were local media on hand, adding to the tense yet electric atmosphere.

With the lights in his eyes and the humm of the crowd filling his ears, Shuichi closed his eyes, letting the adrenaline fill his body with an indescribable feeling. He placed his fingers on the keyboard, leaned into the mike, and took a deep breath. "I can do this, I can do this...." he chanted over and over to himself. "I *will* to this..." The whole audience would stomp, scream, and beg for them to never leave this stage...

"Konban wa, minna-san! Thank-you all for coming tonight! We're Shindou Shuichi and Nagano Hiiroshi, and we are...BAD LUCK!" The lights went up even brighter, Shuichi slammed his fingers down into the keys, Hiiro began to play, and the electricity of the moment took them both over. They gyrated behind their instruments, pouring their hearts into the song, existing only within the music.

After a few moments of a high-paced rhythm between the keyboard and guitar, the beat slowed and a melody began to emerge. Taking another deep breath, Shuichi again turned to the mike and began to sing.

// you walked into my life

 cocky and bold, confident and cold 

 you looked at me and hated the view

but you didn't know that I looked straight through you//

Hiiro, not missing a beat, strained his ears to listen to Shuichi's powerful voice. These weren't exactly the lyrics they'd discussed yesterday...

//smoke passed through your full lips, filled the air

it danced between you and I, swirled around brilliant hair

as you spoke of genius and professed art 

your voice had an edge, had me hooked from the start

harsh words, cool voice

there's a passion inside 

burning through golden eyes//

Sitting with the teachers, Eiri shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "That incredible idiot!" he thought, shaking his head slightly as he watched Shuichi rock his body to the rhythm. When the boy started to sing, however, something inside Eiri froze. It wasn't even the words which he noticed, but rather the voice - smooth and husky, definitely masculine yet oddly sensual. It was after getting over his initial shock that Eiri noticed *what* the boy was singing. 

It was complete crap, of course. The lyrics were horribly rhymed, awkwardly spaced, and utterly corny...yet...yet they were obviously filled with a type of confused emotion, and aimed at a particular person. Him. 

His student was singing his heart out in a crappy song in front of the whole school, a crappy song about *him.* "What is this?" Eiri thought, "some sick form of revenge?"

//your room is cold, it feels lifeless and dead 

but your energy is hot, alive and red

it pulses and burns, and longs to be free 

 it's rich and its rare and it's inspired me

you tear me up and push me away 

when all you needed was for me to stay

 the door slams shut but its not through 

 you've stolen a piece of my soul...but I've taken a piece of you

you play at perfection but you misunderstand 

the truth that I see is more than you planned 

 your walls aren't intact, I see them breaking in two 

I see how you needed me and how I needed you

despite how you try, your pain can't hide 

 I can see the you ....deep inside

 inspire me...//

"Baka..." Eiri whispered, as the crowds around him went wild. Even he couldn't deny it; of all the mediocre acts, Shindou and Nagano had definitely been the best. 

  
  


***

"What the hell were those lyrics, Shuichi?!" Hiiro shouted once he'd managed to drag Shuichi off the stage and away from the applause. 

"What?" Shuichi was still glowing, bouncing excitedly, oblivious to everything.

"Those lyrics! That wasn't the song we rehearsed yesterday." Hiiro shook his head, unsure of whether to be angry or silently grateful. Whatever it was that Shuichi had been singing about, he'd done it with more passion than Hiiro had ever seen, and it was undoubtedly their best attempt ever. 

"Well, I thought, you know..." Shuichi blushed, one arm stretched behind his head. 

"Never mind. Let's celebrate, ne?" Hiiro laughed, looking forward to a nice, cold beer and some donuts. As they packed up and headed out, however, they were interrupted by an unfamiliar voice from behind.

"Shindou-san! Nagano-san! Might I have a word with you?"

***

Fifteen minutes later, the threesome sat in the coffeehouse across the street from the highschool, Hiiroshi and Schuichi listening enrapt to the plain-looking, neatly pressed business man who had called them out. 

"Anyway, I'll be honest, Shindou-san - the lyrics will need some reworking, and you will need a new keyboardist to straighten out the arrangements."

Shuichi's head dropped, as the man continued. 

"But, despite that, you've got something; your voice is worth investing in. As is your guitar, Nagano-san. Here's my card: please call my office and set up an appointment where we can discuss contracts and recording options."

"Recording options?!" Shuichi squeaked. 

Hiiro broke in, "Hey, these offices are at NG!"

"Yes, that's right. I'm doing scouting for Seguchi Tohma's new company."

"Seguchi Tohma....NG...Nittle Grasper?!" Shuichi froze, paralyzed with excitement. 

"Good lord. You've said the magic words...I think we've lost him for awhile." Hiiro shook his head at Sakano-san and laughed at Shuichi's frozen starry-eyed expression. 

Sakano laughed as he got up. "Well, have a good evening, both of you. Please do call me Monday morning." With that, he bowed politely and left the disbelieving pair.

"Nittle Grasper." Shuichi croaked. "That man...he works with Seguchi-san...he liked our music..." 

Hiiro pushed a cup of espresso under his friend's nose and shoved another donut in his mouth, nodding enthusiastically. "Ummhmm. And it would be nice if you weren't acting like a star struck teenager when we go over to their offices on Monday to sign."

Shuichi snapped out of his stupor. "Sign?! Yatta!!" Striking one fist high in the air, he slammed back the espresso with the other, promptly spraying it all over Hiiro. "Yeech! What is this stuff?" 

"Baka."

***

Saturday evening supper at the Shindou household was far from tranquil. 

"I won't hear it!" Shuichi's father slammed his hand down on the smooth tabletop. "Your mother and I have let you continue in this band with Hiiro as long as he tutored you, and you kept your grades up. But after your last report card..."

Shuichi countered, desperation creeping into his voice. His parent's *had* to give him their support in this, he couldn't finish school and sign with NG if they didn't help him out. "I *have* tried! I've been studying really hard, honest! I'm just not good at school, that's all."

"Ridiculous! Your sister was on the honor roll, and there's no reason why you can't do the same. Shuichi, it's time we put an end to this nonsense. The only way you are going to make a decent living for yourself is if you get through school and get into a good college."

His mother, a frail-looking woman who was used to deferring to her husband more often than not, broke in gently. "Shuichi, Hiiroshi's mother was speaking to me the other day. He's going to go to school in England next year, so this band will have to stop, anyway...it's for the best, honey..."

Shuichi felt as if he had been splashed in the face with cold water, searching his mother's face for signs of a lie. It couldn't be true, no, Hiiro wouldn't go to school overseas..."England? Tha-that's not true...Hiiro wouldn't leave me! And you don't know what's for the best! This is MY life!" 

Seeing how upset Shuichi was becoming, she tried a different tactic. "Just think: you'll have so much more time to study, and to maybe finally get a girlfriend."

Shuichi's shoulders slumped as he looked downward into his miso. "Who says I want a girlfriend, anyway..." he mumbled, shoving a spoonful of the now cold soup in his mouth. 

"Of course you want a girlfriend!" Shuichi's father broke in, growing visibly more upset. "Shuichi, this is pointless. This conversation is ending right now. Go to your room and study."

"You've had me stuck in this house studying all day! I want to go see Hiiro so we can talk this over...besides, it's Saturday night!"

"You've had plenty of free Saturday nights, and look where they've gotten you. You may see Nagano-san in school on Monday. Now, go!" Shuichi stood up and stomped up the steps to his room. When his father spoke like that, he wasn't to be disobeyed.

Not to his face, anyway. 

Grabbing his knapsack and throwing in Oliver and as many clothes as it would hold, Shuichi glanced around his room and nodded, resolve firm. 

He pushed open the window in his bedroom window, and made his way down an obliging tree, muttering to himself, "I'm eighteen years old and not under any obligation to them or anyone other than myself. I'll just have to go find someplace else to stay." As he landed on the ground and headed out he marched confidently along the street.

"How hard could it be? I've got lots of friends, right?"

***

The open laptop cast a bluish glow throughout the dark room, giving a ghostly appearance to it's sole occupant, who sat limply behind the desk. Eiri leaned back in his leather chair, head flopped backward and arms falling limp at his sides, a cigarette burning in his left hand and another sticking up out of his mouth. He felt completely and totally drained of energy, having spent a solid ten hours in front of his computer, and was in bad need of both a nicotine fix and a shower. 

It wasn't Eiri's normal habit to go on writing binges such as this; in fact, this was the first time he'd opened his novel in longer than he could remember. It was odd how it happened, that after that pathetic recital he'd inexplicably felt compelled to write. Against all understanding, his story had begun to take shape through the rounds of beer and packs of cigarettes, as the classical music poured out of his stereo he could see the characters, perhaps for the first time, emerging and lending their form to the plot he was envisioning. 

He had stopped writing only after his train of thought kept getting interrupted by echos of last night's concert running through his head.

//...it's rich and its rare and it's inspired me...//

It was after hearing Shuichi sing that crap for the fiftieth time that he had noticed that he'd been slipping and typing "him" instead of "her" in reference to the love interest of the male protagonist. Frowning slightly, he had quickly hit the backspace button and tried to banish the image of pink hair and tight black leather pants which crept into his mind. "I must be going insane..." he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm not into guys, especially not...well, not ones like *that*"

He had grabbed the cigarettes and was enjoying a much-needed break when he was roused out of his stupor by the buzzing of the doorbell, the first contact he'd had with the outside world since the night before. Butting out both his cigarettes, he pushed his glasses up his nose and padded across the cold floor to the intercom.

"Yes?" He had a sinking suspicion he knew whose voice would be on the other end of the com. 

"Uesugi-san? May I please come up?" Bingo. Eiri groaned. "Why me?" He thought, angrily pressing the button again. 

"No. Go home." He didn't, however, disconnect the line.

"I can't. Please, Uesugi-san." The boy's voice sounded slightly desperate. 

"Go away." Eiri cut off the connection and shook his head to clear his thoughts. "What's he playing at? He can't just keep showing up here night after night..."

Again, the buzzer cut through the silence.

Eiri sighed, and resignedly, hitting the button. "What do you want, Shindou?"

"Can I stay here, tonight?"

Silence. 

"I'm not leaving...I don't have anywhere else to go."

Eiri found his voice, and managed, "It's not my problem."

"You're my sensei! Please..." Now there was a definite wobble in the boy's voice, and Eiri could picture him actually being stubborn enough to spend the night curled up in the lobby, sobbing himself to sleep. 

"Come up, baka."

Eiri buzzed the boy through and looked around his empty apartment. "I suppose this means I'll have to make tea again." 

***

Shuichi had scrambled up the steps, unable to believe that the man had actually conceded to letting him stay. He had wandered the streets for awhile, and considered his options: he could either swallow his pride and crawl back to his parent's house, or he could crash at Hiiro's. Neither were really acceptable, considering that he had only left his parent's house that evening, and as a matter of principle, his snit against them couldn't finish on the same night it had started. As for Hiiro, he knew that his mother would only get involved and complicate things, on top of which, he wasn't looking forward to consulting his friend on the whole studying overseas issue. 

So, his options exhausted, here he now sat, somewhat deflated, on the black couch with the now-familiar horrible tea in his hands, venting all his rage at his rather unwilling host. "They just don't understand!" he whined, continuing his ten-minute long tirade.

"What is it that they are supposed to be understanding?" Eiri paced the room calmly, sucking on a beer and trying not to focus too closely on his student. 

Shuichi kept rattling on, oblivious to the only slightly attentive ear he was receiving. "That this is more than just dumb music! It's ME...they don't understand me...they want me to get into college, get a boring job, find a wife..."

"That sounds sensible." *It also sounds familar....* Eiri added silently, stopping pacing and looking down at the boy. 

"It's not what I want. I don't want sensible, I want to be happy...and I don't want a girlfriend."

"No? What do you want, then?"

"..." Shuichi looked down into his teacup, feeling his cheeks grow hot. In truth, he didn't know exactly what he wanted, but he knew that the cookie cutter life envisioned by his parents, wife included, wasn't it. 

"Typical. You know, at your age you ought to be thinking more seriously about your future." Eiri settled himself down in the armchair opposite the couch and crossed his legs, looking more closely at Shuichi.

"You sound like my father!" the boy protested, tossing a pillow at the man. 

Eiri snorted, arching one eyebrow. "I'm 25, not 45."

Their eyes met, and the distance between them seemed much shorter. Shuichi shifted uncomfortably and hoped that his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. As the silence stretched, he said the first thing that popped into his head. "So, um, a teacher? Is that what you always wanted to be?"

"No."

"Well...you must be pretty smart, anyway. What did you do after high school?" Now that it seemed that the topic had been opened, Shuichi was genuinely curious to find out more about Eiri, and eager to get off the subject of girlfriends.

"I lived with my family in Kyoto and took correspondence studies. I finished last year." Eiri had no idea why he was airing out his life to this boy, but it felt safe to continue, so he did. "I studied literature and languages, and political economy, and helped my father tend to the temple and take care of my younger siblings." 

"Woah...classes for seven years? You must like to study!"

"Are you quite finished pummeling me with questions? You're giving me a headache."

"Sorry..." Again, a silence fell, and Shuichi decided that that was about as much as he was going to get out of Eiri about his past. He got up off the couch and walked over to the window, mostly so that his back would be to the other man, and nervously dared to ask what was on the tip of his tongue since he arrived. 

"So, what did you think of the concert? Did I win? Or will you be wanting that essay?"

Eiri restrained a smile, wondering if the boy even knew how obvious, though horrible, his lyrics were. "Hn. I can't believe you actually sang that crap song in front of all those people. You've really got no talent, you know." As he spoke, he quietly rose and crossed the room.

Spinning around, Shuichi found himself looking up into Eiri's piercing golden eyes. "Aa...I...I thought that, well..." 

Later, Eiri wouldn't be able to say exactly what it was which made him act next. He only saw those wide purple eyes fill with hurt and anger, the innocent-looking heart-shaped face framed by pink hair and marked with determination, and was drawn toward it by a force beyond his own control. Reaching down, he cupped Shuichi's face with his right hand, tipping the boy's stubborn chin upward. The anger in the boy's eyes was quickly replaced by confusion as Eiri placed one of left hand on Shuichi's back, pulling him in close. Within a flash of an instant, the blond man sealed their lips together.

It was rough and hard, Eiri pouring his confusion and irritation into the kiss. His lips parted and tongue forced its way inside Shuichi's mouth, running over teeth and colliding violently with the boy's tongue. Shuichi let out a soft cry and made attempts at gasping for air, but only succeeded in deepening the kiss which his partner wasn't intent on ending anytime soon. Finally, the boy stopped his struggling and reached up behind Eiri's back, twining his fingers in the messy golden hair, fervently meeting the man's tongue with his own and grinding his hips up into Eiri's. 

When Eiri felt Shuichi respond to the kiss, he moaned as the last traces of reason left him. There was nothing in the world outside this moment, outside of soft lips firmly pressed to his own and the person wrapped in his arms. But when he felt his own hardness coming in contact with Shuichi's, something inside of him snapped. 

A boy. A student. He couldn't reconcile himself to which was worse, but taken together, it was impossible. He wrenched his mouth away from Shuichi's and pushed the boy away, averting his eyes. "Get out."

"What?!" Shuichi yelped, confused beyond imagining. He'd been first insulted, then given his first kiss a scant moment later by quite possibly the most beautiful man he'd ever seen, and then ordered out the door?

"Get. Out. NOW." Eiri spoke low, his voice sounding deadly. 

"Hmph! You'll have to toss me over the balcony, because there's no way I'm walking out that door." Shuichi stood firmly planted in front of Eiri, not planning on going anywhere. 

Eiri looked back into the boy's eyes, sounding somewhat sad. "You want me that much, Shuichi?"

"As much as you want me." 

"I don't want you."

"Really? Then what's this?" Shuichi reached out and pressed his hand flat against the hard bulge in the man's pants. Eiri growled low in his throat and pushed Shuichi's hand away.

"That has nothing to do with you."

"I'd say it has everything to do with me! I'm not leaving, Eiri! You want me, you need me, and you are too scared to admit it! Well, I'm not!" Shuichi's hand was on his chest, his eyes wide and watery. 

"Baka." Eiri sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head and slowly moving in for another kiss. 

~~~`~,~@


	4. Domestic Bliss

Gomen, minna-san...I made a tiny mistake last part with Eiri's age. I didn't mean to make him the same age as in the cannon, so that's not the problem, but I just noticed that I made a typo: I meant to make Eiri 25, not 27. I've gone back and fixed the mistake in the last part. One more thing: the short quasi-limish scene in this part was my first ever attempt, so please don't laugh too hard ^_^ I apologize if the prose is choppy or purple in parts, and aim to improve at writing "that type" of scene.

Also, just went through and fixed some spelling mistakes…sorry about that!

**Chapter Four: Domestic Bliss**

Shuichi awoke sometime late in the morning tangled in a warm blanket; the sun in his eyes and the smell of coffee drifting throughout the warm room. Momentarily unaware of where he was, he stretched out wide --  promptly rolling off the narrow couch and landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thud. He yelped, blinked a few times, and opened his eyes, only to be greeted with his second shock of the morning: where in hell was he? And where was his shirt?

Shuichi covered himself with the blanket as his eyes darted around the room frantically, stopping on his white t-shirt lying on top of Eiri's blue one on the floor next to the sofa. As he stared at the small pile of clothes, Shuichi clamped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks blossomed into color fit to match his hair, and he tried to make some sense of the events from the night before.

            They had actually passed the night in conversation, for the most part, with the older man opening up to him somewhat…and then,, suddenly, for no apparent reason, Eiri stood behind him and whirled him around, grabbed his face, and started kissing him like he was a woman. "He's a good kisser, too…" Shuichi murmured to himself, hugging the blanket tight to his chest. 

Once getting over the shock, Shuichi had settled down into the kiss, fighting against every logical part of him that said that it was so wrong, and listening to instinct that said it felt so right. He pushed his tongue up to meet Eiri's, wound his fingers in the soft golden hair, and pressed his body against the other man's. 

            After a few moments, Eiri had stopped, pulled away, ordered him out. But no, that's not what was so surprising….rather, afterward, Eiri had looked down at Shuichi and pulled him into his arms again, actually admitting that he wanted him, kissing him for a second time. They ate at each other's mouths for a few more minutes, breaking apart only when Eiri pulled Shuichi's t-shirt up over his head and threw it across the room, and again as the blond quickly made his shirt join it. Bare-chested, they held each other close, Shuichi's hands running over Eiri's smooth hard torso, Eiri's breath hot on Shuichi's neck. The taller man slowly guided them over to the sofa, where he pushed the boy down and lay on top of him, their chests pressing together with a delicious heat, their lower bodies grinding to create a pleasurable friction. 

Without warning, Eiri had given a small cry and rolled off Shuichi, cursing. He sat on the floor beside the couch for a moment, breathing hard and running the fingers of one hand through his hair, absentmindedly touching his own lips with the other. 

"Uesugi…" Shuichi began, uncertain of what was happening, but knowing he must have done something wrong to make Eiri stop. Shuichi sat up and silently cursed himself and his inexperience – he'd never done anything like this before, so of course he was bound to screw it up. After a long moment, the older man shakily stood, and without looking back at the boy on the sofa, he issued the harsh statement. 

"I'm going to be bed. Alone."****

Shuichi's voice was very small as he dared,  "You're not going to make me go, are you?" 

"You can stay out here if you like, but don't bother me. If I hear so much as a peep, I'm going to take you up on your offer and pitch you out the window." ****

"Hai, Uesugi...sensei."

  


Shuichi watched Eiri's back as the man walked down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door loudly. He sighed and reached down to grab his stray hooded sweater, balled it up in the corner of the couch and, resting his head on his improvised pillow, promptly fell asleep. 

"But where did this blanket come from?" Shuichi wondered aloud, as he pulled on his t-shirt and stood up. His gaze strayed to the closed office door. "Uesugi? But why would he..." ****

Confident, Shuichi placed the blanket back on the black couch and turned, heading toward the kitchen to help himself to the contents of the fridge. Last night may have ended badly, but it seemed obvious from the blanket that the other man had meant for him to be comfortable, so Shuichi decided to take his invitation to the fullest advantage. 

***

An hour later, a flour-dusted Shuichi timidly knocked on the door to  Eiri's study, meeting with silence. Shrugging, he turned the knob and stuck his head inside. "Ohayou!" He chirped out, not knowing what sort of response to expect from the blond man who was hunched over his desk, typing. Without looking up, Eiri grated out, 

"Are you still here?"

Undaunted, Shuichi edged closer to the desk, trying to peep at what it was the older man was typing. "I've made eggs and pancakes, want some?"

"No." Eiri replied, surprised that the boy had found enough food in his apartment to put together a breakfast.

"There's plenty, and I worked hard at it -- you should eat, sensei, you look too skinny."

Eiri snorted, looking up and eyeing the slender youth. "You're one to talk."

Shuichi pulled out his sweetest smile and coupled it with a slight pout. "Please? Besides, it seems like you could use a break, anyway. What are you doing?"

  


"Nothing." Eiri resumed typing.

"It doesn't look like 'nothing'!" Shuichi insisted, circling the desk to get a better view.

"Work."

"It doesn't look like work, either. It looks like…" Shuichi trailed off, his attention wandering as he spied a familiar well-worm book lying on the edge of the sensei's desk. If he could just get close enough to the table, maybe the older man wouldn't notice…

Irritated, and suddenly self-conscious by the presence of the boy practically gaping over his shoulder, Eiri replied curtly, "I'm writing, if you must know. It's just a hobby."****

"Ah." Shuichi murmured, sliding the book into the back of his pants and stepping away. He got the hint. If Uesugi was writing something personal, he probably didn't want someone reading it, not before it was finished, anyway. That's how he knew he always felt about his lyrics. After another short silence he pressed on, pursuing the issue that was most present on his mind. "Sensei, you're not going to make me go home, are you?"

"You can't stay here."

"Please? I...I can't face them yet." Shuichi's voice started to sound small, a desperate note creeping in. 

"Running won't do any good." Eiri sensibly replied, a stubborn part of him wanting to say otherwise.

"Let me stay. Please. I need to. And...you don't really want me to go, anyway." 

Eiri placed a hand on his forehead and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He sighed and looked up at the pink-haired youth and  was probably more surprised than Shuichi at the words that come from his mouth next. "Two conditions: one, you call your parents. I don't want to hear about your disappearance on the evening news."

"What should I tell them?"

"That you're anywhere but here. I don't want to come up on molestation charges, either. If people knew you were staying here, their minds would leap right in the gutter."

"Hey, I'm over 18!" Shuichi protested, hands on his hips. "And *you* kissed *me,* remember?"

Eiri glowered, and continued in a level tone. "You're still one of my students, which makes you just as off-limits. Second, you mind your own business. Do homework, sit in a corner, rot, I don't care. Just don't bug me."****

"Ano...can I buy some groceries? There's nothing in your cupboards but some petrified ramen noodles and a lump of moldy cheese. There's nothing to drink, either."

"There's plenty of beer."  Eiri sighed again and looked back to his computer. "Look, can't you just order food in for yourself? There are some credit cards in my wallet on top of the fridge."

 "Sugoi! Can I order pizza?" Shuichi shouted, eyes shining.  

"Whatever. Just leave me alone, okay?"

  


"Hai! Thanks!!" Shuichi scampered off, leaving a trail of flour dust and a somewhat bemused Eiri behind him. ****

*******

Two hours later, the blond was lured out of his office by a putrid smell that was permeating the apartment. He firmly suspected that the source would be wherever Shuichi was, so he set off in the direction of the noisy living room. He found his houseguest seated on the floor in front of the television, a stack of take-out boxes next to him.  He pretended not to notice the ratty songbook that lay open in front of the boy, overlooking the fact that Shuichi had somehow snuck it out of his office that morning without his noticing.****

"What in hell is that?" he asked, gesturing toward the pile of smelly boxes. ****

"Pi-zza!" Shuichi replied in a sing-song voice. "This one's cornflakes and tomato sauce, that one's sweet corn, black olives, squid, and mayonnaise, and on the bottom is chicken, bean, and barbeque sauce." **

Eiri paled and shook his head. "I think I'll just have beer."

"NO! You haven't eaten anything today. Get over here and have some! It's good!" Shuichi scrambled to his feet and reached down into the box on the top of the pile, extracting a piece of lukewarm pizza and holding it out to the older man. The stubborn look on his face was enough that Eiri knew resistance would only yield an argument, so he relented and shuddered inwardly as he took a piece of the breakfast-cereal laden pizza. 

"I suppose it won't kill me..." he conceded, before hesitantly biting off the corner of the slice.

"Good, ne?" Shuichi asked, happy that he was finally getting the man's company. 

"Well, "Eiri considered as he crunched thoughtfully. "it could be worse. Those leftover pancakes you made look toxic…"****

"Hidoi na! I worked hard at those!"****

*******

The day passed in relative isolation for the pair: Eiri, feeling oddly energized by his "meal" with the younger boy stayed shut up in his office pounding away on his keyboard; Shuichi, for his part, hung out in the living room, struggled through a bit of history homework, and wrote two whole new songs. Just being around the older man left him humming, and he knew that this new material had been even better than the song he had written for the festival.

Proud of himself, Shuichi sat on the sofa and hugged the soft blue blanket around himself tightly, inhaling the faint scent of tobacco and cologne that clung to the fabric. Dusk had fallen, and over the balcony he could see the lights of the city shining brightly. Inside, the television provided the sole source of illumination, casting a pale blue glow throughout the room. Yes, he thought to himself, today had been a good day. It was just what he needed, really, a day without distraction to write and think about Sakano-san's offer with NG. His parents had made some good points, yes, but ultimatly, it was still his decision, and one he couldn't make lightly.

            Inside his office, Eiri could hear the faint sound of the television coming from the living room, and his mind wandered to the boy who was undoubtedly sitting in front of it. What in hell was that last night, anyway? The man sighed and shook his head a few times, deciding that what he needed now was a cigarette and a cold beer to clear his head. Holding his pack, he cursed. Empty. Figures. As he sat in his chair and re-read the paragraphs he had spent the day creating, he smiled softly, inwardly suspecting that what he needed a fix of wasn't nicotine, anyway. He absentmindedly traced his lips with his fingers, remembering the taste of Shuichi from last night. From the way he looked and acted, Eiri had expected that he would taste sweet, like candy or strawberries. Instead, he was hot, sharp, and tangy; his taste hadn't left Eiri's lips since last night, and he knew that he craved more.

Eiri snapped to attention and pulled his hand away from his mouth, shaking his head. It couldn't happen again. It just couldn't. And the best way to ensure that didn't was to stay the hell away from Shindou Shuichi.  But then…well, hiding in his office wasn't exactly the answer, was it? After all, they would have to see each other in school on Monday; contact was unavoidable. Resignedly, Eiri stood up, stretched, and padded down the hall to the living room. 

He paused in the hall, hesitating. From where he was standing, he could see that the take-out boxes had been put away, the boy's things neatly lining the coffee table. As for Shuichi himself, he sat on the couch opposite the television as predicted. "Konban wa." Eiri was surprised at his own voice. He hadn't meant to start a conversation. Shuichi quickly snapped his head in the direction of the older man, his eyes lighting up.

"Konban wa, Uesugi-sensei! I thought you were going to wind up typing all night."  

"What are you watching?" He asked, for the sake of conversation, not moving from his spot in the doorway.

"Music videos! This one's Glay, but their having a Nittle Grasper festival later tonight!" Shuichi edged over on the couch to make room for the other man. 

"Hn. Pop." Eiri watched as the younger boy made room for him on the couch, but waged an internal struggle as to whether or not to walk over. His brain said no, but other areas were itching to get closer to the boy. 

"Yeah, pop. What do you like to listen to, sensei?"

"Beethoven. Mozart" Eiri replied flatly. 

"What? Those old guys? Why not something more fun? What did you listen to back when you were my age?" Shuichi asked, eager for more information about his teacher.

  


            "Gee, don't make it sound so long ago or anything." Eiri answered, as his body won out and he walked toward the sofa.

"Well?" Shuichi prompted, struggling to hide his delight that the blond was joining him. He clutched the blanket slightly tighter, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fabric of Eiri's shirt, the older man's smell reaching his nostrils and making him slowly forget what they were walking about.

"I don't know…I guess mostly L'arc-en-ciel and a bit of Nittle Grasper. Happy?" 

At Eiri's answer, Shuichi snapped back to attention. "Yes! Uesugi-sensei, you're so cool!" Happily, he turned back to the television as the image of his idol, Sakuma Ryuichi flashed across the screen. "Isn't Sakuma-san awesome? I'm going to be like that, someday."

Eiri was silent for a moment as he looked from the television back to the boy sitting beside him. His impulse was to answer, "baka" and laugh, but the truth was, for a second, looking at that determined look on Shuichi's face, Eiri didn't doubt it. Gods knew he already had the outrageous fashion sense down…The blond's thoughts were derailed, however, by the can sitting on the table.

            "Hey. What the heck are you drinking?" 

            "Umm…beer?" Shuichi offered, flushing, expecting a lecture.

            "Well…It better not have been the last one."

***

            Monday morning, Shuichi awoke late to find the apartment empty, the time on the face of the clock stubbornly insisting that it was 8:02. 

            "Shimatta! I'm late!" Shuichi tore around the apartment, stuffing his possessions into his backpack and calculating how long it would take him to run to school from this part of town. At first he wondered why Uesugi-sensei hadn't driven him to school, until he reasoned that they couldn't very well show up together. Still, though…he could have at least waken him! 

            After cramming some cold cornflake pizza down his throat and brushing his teeth, Shuichi grabbed his orange hooded sweatshirt and pulled in on over his wrinkly uniform.  8:20. Damn! He pulled on his clunky black sneakers, casting a look around the now-familiar apartment, convinced that it would not be his last.  Just in case, however, he'd taken the time to make sure he left a bit of himself here. In the bedroom, Oliver smiled from atop Eiri's pillow, resting beside a note scrawled out in messy kana:  

"Keep me! I'm good company. But you've gotta hug me lots!!!"

Underneath was a second note, written less hastily but in the same scrawl:

"Thanks for the couch, the pizza, and the beer. ^_~  I hope that whatever it is you're writing, it turns out well.  I'm going to sign with NG. They might even let me record your song. ^_^Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you let me stay, or that you're really a big softie inside. You're secret's safe with me." ~ Shuichi****

*******

At 8:57, a breathless Shuichi burst into the door of class 3-C, sweat trickling down his forehead and hair windblown from the run. He was met with the sight of Eiri sitting on the edge of his desk at the front of the room, reading aloud from a stack of papers in his hand. The class, for a change, actually looked attentive, and Shuichi's curiosity was instantly piqued.

            "Shitsureishimasu," he panted, walking past snickers and stares as he made his way to his seat in the back row. Collapsing into the chair, he issued a small moan of pleasure to finally be off his feet. These sneakers may have looked great, but they were far from functional.

"Glad you could join us, Shindou-san," Eiri greeted. "Oversleep?" The edge of sarcasm was plain in his voice, and Shuichi struggled to retain his composure.

"Hai, sensei. I was kept up all night by the most annoying snoring in the next room…" Shuichi trailed off, an obvious mischievous glint in his eyes.

Eiri almost choked. That little…! "Well, now that you've seen fit to show up, and have ceased disrupting the class, perhaps we can continue with our lesson. I was reading aloud a short story for the class to critique. You contributions are also welcomed, although I'm sure they will be sub-standard due to your tardiness."  With that, Eiri settled back down on his desk, cleared his throat, and continued. ****

Listening to the prose, Shuichi was struck dumb. It was…it was good. It was better than good, it was wonderful. Hell, he knew that he knew nothing when it came to literature, but he knew that he loved what he was hearing, and he ached to hear more of the smooth, stylistic words coming out through Eiri's rich voice. Only once did his attention waver to think about what a singer the man would have made with that husky, sensual voice.

            "Comments?" Eiri looked to the class. "Yamashita-san?" 

            "Well, it was good, sensei," the girl offered.

            "I know it was good, Yamashita-san. What I want is for you to pick it apart and tell me *why * it was good. Let your brain out to air, once and awhile." 

            "I…I…" she stammered, reddening. 

            "Anyone?" Eiri asked, walking around to sit in his desk. This could be a long class. 

*******

            "Thank the gods *that's * over." Yamashita Michiru sighed, exiting the class. "Why does he always have to be such an incurable ass?" 

            None of the other students seemed to pick up on her complaints today, though. They all had a new target: Shuichi. The concert had been heavily attended, and word about "Bad Luck" had spread fast, suddenly bringing the pink-haired boy and his best friend to the center of attention. As the pair walked down the hall toward the cafeteria, they were stopped many times by curious classmates.

"Ne, Shuichi, who's the lucky girl?" Tareda Ayaka called, teasingly. 

"Nani?" Shuichi's head spinned, settling on the brown-haired girl and her group of friends leaning against a line of lockers.

"Your song! Remember? Friday night? She sounds pretty special." Ayaka pressed, eager for gossip.

"Ah..ano..no, nobody special…" Shuichi flustered, his eyes searching for Hiiro, who seemed to have been swallowed by the crowds surging toward the lunch room.

"Maa...I wish I could inspire a songwriter..." another girl said, looking at Shuichi dreamily. 

"What's this, Michiru?" Kurozawa Junichiro asked sarcastically, walking up and slinging his arm around the petite girl.  "You actually think you've got a chance with that fag? He's been banging Nagano for years, didn't you know!" The jock sneered at Shuichi, running his eyes over the boy's slim form, dyed hair, and dangling silver earring, shaking his head in disgust and laughing as Michiru struggled to get free of his large beefy arm. "What's the matter? You think that type of guy is better than me?"

"Go screw yourself, Kurozawa!" Hiiro appeared behind Shuichi, making a somewhat obscene gesture at the jock.  Michiru pulled free and made her way over to stand beside Shuichi and the group of girls which had gathered around the pair.

"Oh, excuse me...didn't mean to pick on your boyfriend!" Kurozawa shot back. 

Hiiro casually slung his arm over Shuichi's shoulders and cocked his head at the jock. "Jealous?"

Until that moment, Shuichi hadn't thought it possible for one person to turn so many shades of purple at once. As the larger boy sputtered, Hiiro continued, "Shuichi, if you're finished with this ass, I'd like to get to lunch."

"Sure."  Shuichi replied, turning. They pushed their way through the girls and set off down the hall, Hiiro's arm still around Shuichi's shoulder, subtly supporting his friend, who had started shaking.  

"Thanks, Hiiro."

Hiiro looked back over his shoulder and blew a kiss at the fuming teen. "Jerk." ****

*******

As soon as they secured a table and opened their bento, Hiiro asked what had been on his mind all weekend. "So, where were you? You said you'd call on Saturday and we'd discuss NG."

"Yeah, I sort of um..." Shuichi trailed off, thinking fast. "I broke the news to my parents on Saturday, and they weren't really sympathetic. They had me under lock and key for the weekend. Parents!" he sighed dramatically, hoping that Hiiro couldn't see through him. 

"Does that explain why your backpack is stuffed full of clothes?" Hiiro arched his eyebrows, staring down his friend. 

  


"Well, ano...um..." Shuichi mumbled, suddenly fascinated with his egg nigiri. 

"Shu, what's going on? You have been totally out of it since last week, even before the concert...ever since that jerk sensei caught you writing in class...." Hiiro stopped, a dozen little snippets coming together in his head and making the logical conclusion that he couldn't find before. "Shuichi, what happened when you went over to his house Wednesday night?"

Shuichi looked up, a frantic look coming over his face. "Nothing, Hiiro! Honest!"

Hiiro closed his eyes momentarily, placing his chopsticks down. "Those lyrics...how could I have been so stupid? Who the hell else do you know that smokes and has 'golden eyes'?"

"Hiiro..." Shuichi pleaded, hoping his friend wouldn't continue, knowing that he couldn't lie if Hiiro began to question what had happened.

"This weekend, you weren't at home, were you." It wasn't a question. 

"I...I..."

"What happened?" Hiiro firmly asked, leaning in closer. He didn't think that whatever Shuichi had to say should be overheard by a table of fangirls or worse, a lunch monitor. 

Shuichi sighed, and prepared to level the truth at Hiiro. "My parents. They, um, got a letter from Tanaka-sensei on Friday. I'd already left to meet you, thank goodness, or they wouldn't have let me go to the concert. Um..."  he trailed off.

"Spit it out, Shu!"

"It's my stupid grades!" Shuichi moaned. "They've dropped since my last grade report. You know that I was academic probation, that I had a C+ average...well, it's um...now it's a D. Tanaka-sensei told me that I'm going to have to quit after-school band, meaning that we won't have a place to practice anymore, and that he doesn't see how I'll pass the finals...he told my parents that they shouldn't expect I'll be able to get into a university."

"That bastard." Hiiro shook his head. Tanaka-sensei was a bastard, that everyone knew. But this…

"But Hiiro, it's all true! That's not what upsets me, really...I never wanted to go to some stupid college. The bad part is that um...they're not going to let me sign with NG. They want me to try to make it through the exams! 'It's time you got sensible, Shuichi. You're dreaming your life away' – that's what my mom said. My dad said that 'as long as you're under my roof, you'll get into a good school and give up that ridiculous band.'" 

"Shu..."

"But I won't, Hiiro! We'll find somewhere else to practice, we'll sign with NG and tell them to get us a place! I won't let this chance go, we've been working forever for it!" Shuichi slammed his chopsticks down on the table. 

"So what happened after that? With your parents?"

  


"Well…I climbed out he window and wound up at Uesugi-san..er..sensei's place. He let me stay. I called my parents yesterday and said I was at your house, and that I'd come home after school today when things had calmed down a bit." Shuichi held his breath, hoping that the conversation wouldn't go much further.

"You were at his place for two nights?"  Hiiro arched his eyebrows. "Shuichi, that doesn't look good..."

"No!! It's not like that! " Shuichi protested. "He didn't even want me there, it was my fault, I'm the one who wouldn't leave, I kept buzzing and buzzing and I couldn't go home and he let me come up and I was doing everything...yeah, he was the one who kissed me first, but it was my fault, really..."

"Shu, calm down! You're rambling." A pause. Then,  "He kissed you?"

"...."

"He's our teacher! He's old! He's a..."

"man?"  Shuichi finished, dismally. 

"Well, yes." Hiiro admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"I know! Gods, Hiiro, don't you think I know?! I can't help it. I don't know why, but I need him."

Hiiro let out a short laugh. "I *do* remember your song, you know." 

"Yeah, and unfortunately, so does everyone else. I'm such a baka, sometimes." Shuichi gave a short laugh at the thought of his female classmates going all dreamy over his lyrics about their cantankerous Japanese teacher. There had to be an irony in there.****

"True."

            After a few silent moments of fervent eating, Shuichi decided that there probably wouldn't be a better time to bring up what he'd been mulling over ever since that awful conversation with his parents.

"Ano, Hiiro...are you really going to England to study?"

Hiiro spit out his milk, spraying Shuichi's leftover riceballs. "What?! How did you…" 

"Your mom. She was talking with mine, and said that you were going to have to quit the band because you're leaving in a few months to go to university."  "Why couldn't you tell me?" Shuichi looked hurt, and didn't try to hide it.

"Because I don't want to go, baka. Do you think I want to do everything that my parents have planned out for me? It's my life, you know. I don't want to go to England any more than you want to be a respectable salaryman."

"But – "

"No 'buts.' Now, are we going to call this Sakano-san or not?"

  


"You do realize that our parents will kill us." Shuichi put in sensibly.

"Let 'em try." Hiiro replied stubbornly. "I'm 19, I've got a trust fund from my obasan that I have full access to, and my brother knows a guy who wants to get out of his lease. Not to mention the fact that I'm soon going to be a successful musician."  Hiiro boasted, proudly.  "Graduation is only another two months away, and I'm prepared to juggle school and work until then."

"Hmm..."

"You know, it won't be so bad. I'll help tutor you, and I'm sure you can make it through the next few weeks. If your parents won't let you try, you can always bail and come live with me."

"Hiiro! I couldn't." Shuichi protested, not wanting to live off his friend's charity.

"Well, that, or you could go crash with golden eyes." Hiiro winked. "Maybe he'd give you extra credit."

"Hidoi!" Shuichi laughed, cuffing his friend on the back of the head. "It's not like that."

"Then how is it?"

"Well...I don't know." Shuichi looked back down at his milk-soaked riceballs. Well, he mused, after those pancakes…

"Shu! That's gross!" Hiiro admonished, as Shuichi ceremoniously tipped his head back and popped in a riceball.

*******

"Uesugi-san! Uesugi-san!" the secretary panted, out of breath.  "I've been looking for you everywhere! Tanaka-sensei would like to see you in his office right away."

Eiri looked up from his newspaper in the teacher's lunch room and eyed the secretary. Young, probably not over 21, with a short skirt and longish hair. Probably what most men considered attractive. Eiri momentarily looked inside himself, and frustratingly enough, felt nothing.

"Hn." He replied, getting to his feel. Dull paper, anyway. Not that he expected that dullard Tanaka-san would have anything interesting to say, anyway.

***

The office was as bland as Eiri had expected, reflecting some key assumptions he had already made regarding the character of his boss. Plain brown paper, a green desk lamp, a few diplomas on the wall, a golf putter in the corner. Nothing which spoke of the long career greatly enjoyed educating children. No pictures of the slightly short and bald man with family, friends. Looking around, Eiri wondered: would his office look like this in thirty years? Cold, barren, plain?

"Ah, Uesugi-san. I trust that your first week has been going well?" Tanaka Hikaru asked politely to the man sitting in the chair across his desk.

*Why, no, actually it hasn't. I've only been looking after these disrespectful little shits for three days and I already feel like ripping my goddamned hair out, meaning that I can look forward to soon sporting a toupee as fake-looking as yours. On the plus side, however, I did have one of the boys in my class stay at my house this weekend. He let me slip him the tongue so I'm thinking of giving him some bonus marks on his term essay.*

"Uesugi-san? You didn't answer me...is everything going well?" the balding man asked again, wondering at the odd look on the blond's face.

"Hn." Eiri replied curtly. "Everything is going well."****

**  
**

"Well…" the assistant principal began somewhat hesitantly, "I'm sorry to do this in light of the fact that you just started and all, but I think you should be made aware of some of the, er...standards we expect our teachers to keep at this school."

            "Standards?" Eiri questioned, shifting in his uncomfortable fake-leather chair. 

            "Yes, we've got multiple complaints from…let's see…" Tanaka flipped through some papers on his desk before settling on a large folder. "Ah, yes, here it is. Kurozawa Junichiro? I believe he's in your homeroom as well and your senior literature class, as well as another member of the soccer team, Yamaguchi Hironobu?" He paused for affect. "Smoking in class, sitting with your feet up on the desk, belittling the students, assigning gross over amounts of homework…need I continue?" 

            "No." Eiri answered coldly. Those little bastards…

            "Do you deny these things?" Tanaka pressed, looking as though he was enjoying raking the other man over the coals. Which, Eiri thought to himself, he probably was.

            "No."

            "Well, I certainly hope you will take measures to see that you don't repeat these mistakes again. We aim to lead by example at this school, after all."

            "I understand."

"Good! I think that 's everything, then." Tanaka looked back down to his desk. "Oh, yes, and just one more thing, Uesugi-san." The man gestured for Eiri to remain in his seat.  "Are you a homosexual?" 

"What?" Eiri spit out the word, shocked.

"Homosexual, Uesugi-san. Do you have a sexual attraction toward younger boys?" Tanaka actually looked as though he were enjoying this humiliation, thought Eiri. The bald man sat, pen poised, ready to take down whatever Eiri replied.

"This is absurd."

"Please answer me, Uesugi-san. I only ask because I'm concerned about some of the rumors I've been hearing, and well...we have the best interests of our students in mind, after all." 

"You don't have the right to ask me such a thing." Eiri replied, icily. Inwardly, he wondered, "rumors? What rumors?" 

"I'm sorry, but as the assistant principle of this institution I do have the right to know."

Eiri's patience was wearing thin. "Know what? You want to know if I'm going to seduce one of my students? Or are you wondering if I might be interested in giving you a blow job after lunch?"

The balding man looked momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered, swallowing hard. "You don't want me for an enemy, Uesugi-san. I can see to it that your teaching career is over before it's even begun."

"Just try." With that, Eiri rose out of the cheap chair and issued a short, sarcastic bow to the shorter man. He turned sharply and stalked out of the man's office, fuming. As he wandered through the halls in a near-rage, he had only one thought on his mind: where in hell was Shindou Shuichi?

TBC ^_^

Thanks for reading!

A/n: I'm not making up the pizza toppings folks ^_^ These are all items from the menus of Japanese pizza shops. Sounds yummy, ne?


	5. Tadaima! and a few face plants

a/n: This part is for all those of you who patiently (and not-so-patiently) waited for this while I got over some extreme writer's block. I thank you, as without your constant pokes, this would never have been continued. ^_^ Also, please forgive the formatting problems with this chapter: I'm attempting to resolve them, and once I have I will re-upload the file. Thanks!

**                                                                                   Chapter Five: Tadaima! (and a few face plants)**

          Eiri tore through the halls in a daze, crashing into more than one student in his indifference. His mind was reeling from the meeting with the principal: /_"Homosexual, Uesugi-san…concerned about some of the rumors I've been hearing..."/ Tanaka_-sensei's voice was joined by others from the past, which shouted at him from inside his mind. Eiri's head pounded as the memories rather forgotten surged to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him.

_         /"What do you mean, you don't want a wife?! You're my son, and you're going to have sons, just like a man should!"/_

_         /"Eiri-san, we'd like to talk to you about your classmate Daisuke…saw you two together in the art classroom…shameful behavior for a boy…don't you like girls?"/_

_         /"…look, there he is…gorgeous…heard he's never even been on a date…what a waste…"/_

_         /"wrong…disgraceful…you're my son! Be a _man_!"_

         He fought against the past until he found some quiet, retreating into the detached part of his mind which allowed him peace. When he took stock of where he was, he was realized he was leaning up against a row of lockers adjacent to the girl's lavatory. He looked around quickly and stood up straighter, causing the few students who were staring at him to dart their eyes away and move quickly past, exchanging eager whispers. Feeling still somewhat shaken, he closed his eyes and lowered his head, absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, attempting to fully regain his momentarily lost composure. 

         He was still leaning against the lockers with one hand pressed to his forehead when his thoughts were interrupted by a slightly frantic voice: "Uesugi-sensei? Uesugi-sensei?" A hand roughly shaking him by the shoulder joined the voice. "Are you alright?"

         "Uh..hai. I'm fine." Eiri shook his head a few times and looked up, his gaze locking with now-familiar wide purple eyes. "Shuichi…" He trailed off, swatting away the thin hand on his shoulder. "Er, Shindou-san, might I speak with you for a moment about your term essay?"

         "Hai, sensei." Shuichi nodded his head quickly, dropping his arm and attempting to look casual. Inwardly, he was still shaken at the sight of the normally aloof older man holding his head in his hands, wavering from side to side.

          Eiri leaned in slightly and lowered his voice, whispering, "Come over tonight. We need to talk."

The boy's eyes widened at Eiri's unexpected invitation. "To-tonight?" he sputtered, "I can't, my parents –" 

         "That never seemed to stop you before" came Eiri's matter-of-fact reply. 

         "I'm sorry, sensei…" Shuichi felt desperate; he wanted nothing more than to say yes, but considering that he had to talk to his parents about NG…

         "When, then?" Eiri questioned, his tone irate.

         "Umm…tomorrow?" 

         "Fine. Come in the evening. Alone." Eiri leaned back, put his hands in his pockets and continued on his way down the hall toward the teachers lounge. Shuichi watched his back until the older man turned a corner. 

         His nerves shot, Shuichi collapsed against the row of lockers and let out a loud sigh.

                                                                                                        ~~`~,~@

         "Tadaima…" Shuichi weakly called, shutting the door to his parent's house behind him. So far, so good, he thought, as the sound of his homecoming hadn't brought his mother's wrath down on him within seconds, as expected. He quietly slipped off his sneakers and neatly placed them beside his mother's, hoping to at least win some goodwill through the small display of uncharacteristic tidiness. 

         Shuichi stuck his pink-haired head into the hall, quickly looking back and forth to determine if it was safe to advance to the kitchen for a quick snack. Hearing the clang of a pot lid break the silence, he nervously jumped back, and decided to make a break for the stairs instead. The stairs, which never seemed so inviting, were directly across from the front entrance, and the journey would be short and –hopefully—quiet. Taking a deep breath, he made his break.

         Unfortunately, his mother must have been feeling overly industrious today in her cleaning, as the stairs–usually well-worn and dull—were polished to a high-gloss shine. As he hurled himself up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, Shuichi's socks slipped against the shiny wood, sending the boy into a spectacular face plant halfway up the stairwell. 

         "Shuichi?! Are you home?" His mother's voice called out, getting steadily louder as she advanced down the hall, "What on earth are you _doing?" She asked, as she disapprovingly surveyed her son sitting on the steps, rubbing his head and sheepishly grinning. She sighed and shook her head, her voice hiding her amusement. "You better go wash up and come back down to have a snack. You're probably hungry, and we should talk before your father comes home. "_

                                                                                                       ~~`~,~@

       "I talked with Hiiroshi-kun's mother today," his mother began quietly, pausing to sip at her green tea, "I know you're lying about where you stayed this weekend." 

        Shuichi gulped down his milk and put his sandwich back on his plate, unsure of what to say next. His mother sitting him down at the kitchen table to talk to him without his father was, needless to say, unprecedented. What was more puzzling was that she didn't seem to be angry…well, not screeching-and-grounding-him angry. This was different, and almost scary. "Er…" He replied weakly, his chest tightening. He glanced around nervously, as if seeking an escape pod.

        "I haven't told your father yet, because I honestly don't know what to say. You've betrayed every scrap of trust we've given you, Shuichi." She looked sad as she continued, "All we've ever wanted from you is to get through school, get a good job, and marry a nice girl, so that we might see this family continue. We've always worked hard, and only wanted the best for you. But at every turn you disobey us."

        "I don't mean to disobey you! I just—"

        "But you _do_, Shuichi. Whether you mean to or not." She interrupted, still speaking in that calm, disappointed voice. "And this has got to be the last time. We know how your grades are, but with extra tutoring, no more band, and some real _work you can get into college. You can also try to be a bit more serious; you're going to dye your hair back, and stop all your daydreaming! You know very little about real life, and its going to hurt you unless you change." She paused, watching the impact of her words on Shuichi's face. He sat in shock, unprepared to deal with what was being said, and dreading doing what he knew he must._

        "I guess you'll be wanting me to get a girlfriend, too." He said, anticipating her answer.

        "Yes, of course! It's about time you started finding the girl you will settle down with. You father and I were married at 20, that's very soon for you. You know I know lots of women with nice daughters. We can have some dinners for their families this summer, before you go to college." She smiled, both surprised and pleased at Shuichi's apparent interest in forming a proper social life.

Shuichi looked down at his plate, seeing the chip he had put in the familiar dish when he was 10, smashing his knife into it during an impromptu dinnertime rhythm band. His father had been so angry, he'd not been allowed desert, but his mother had smiled, saying it was just a silly old plate. He'd always thought that, when the time came, he'd have his mother's support, but after this conversation, he knew that he'd have to accept that he would never be able to make his parents see who and what he was—not yet, anyway. Screwing up all the courage he had in him, he looked back into his mother's expectant face and said the hardest words he'd ever said:

"Mom, I love you. But I'm leaving. I'm sorry." At her confused expression, he pressed forward, "You and Dad don't know who I am, what I want. You don't see that I can't be the son you've always dreamed of. I'm sorry." He sat up, and walked past his mother to the stairs, where he carefully climbed the stairs up toward his bedroom. He sat down on the bed, looked around the room he had occupied since he was six years old and cried, wanting more than anything in the world to have Oliver to hold onto tight. 

                                                                                                       ~~`~,~@

          Eiri placed his briefcase on the couch and looked around his apartment which, for some unfathomable reason, seemed oddly large tonight. There were few signs of his hastily-departed houseguest, other than the blanket left strewn across the couch and the few pizza crumbs on the coffee table, but they were enough to give him an odd empty feeling which he neither could, nor cared to, explain. He flicked on the lights as he moved from the living room down the hall past the kitchen, and into his office, hoping that the light would chase some of the feeling away. 

          It didn't.

          He sat down at his desk, and booted up the laptop, figuring that doing some more work on his writing would be what he needed to provide distraction. Unfortunately, all he seemed to be able to think of was what had happened at school today, and he cursed Shuichi for not coming over tonight so that he could straighten things out between them once and for all. He carried with him this sense of unease all day, heightened by the fact that the boy seemed to be under the impression that there was something "going on" between them—at least, that's what Eiri had read on his face, whenever the boy had cast a glance in his direction. No, the man reminded himself, clenching his teeth and balling his hands into fists, a kiss and a stupid song do not make a relationship. And neither do stupid scribblings. He angrily closed his laptop, pushed the chair back from the desk, and headed back to the kitchen. 

         His stomach growling, Eiri advanced on the fridge, suppressing an urge to grab a slice of leftover pizza. Then, considering that the choice was either pizza or leftover pancakes…after waging a small internal battle, the blond reached for the pancakes and a beer. Hell, the boy couldn't' be _that_ bad a cook, could he? After choking down a few bites, Eiri realized that perhaps he wasn't meant to eat food at all, and settled on leaning up against the counter and chugging down the remaining six cans of beer in the fridge. On can number five he started to feel sufficiently numb and more than a little dizzy, so he headed over to the couch where he could, pathetically enough, pass out. 

         A sudden loud buzz rang in his ears and made him jump, sloshing beer all over his shirt. Cursing, he put the can down on the coffee table, and yanked the shirt up and over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Feeling his anger rising, he staggered over to the intercom, and pressed the receiver button so hard that he heard the sound of cracking plastic beneath his fingers. "Who is it?" he managed, his speech slightly slurred. 

        "Umm…It's me," came the meek reply. "Tadaima?" 

                                                                                                     ~~`~,~@

       "NO! Absolutely not. You're going to take all this junk and go back to Mommy and Daddy's right now!" Eiri ran his hands through his hair in annoyance and paced around the living room, eyeing the large pile of stuff Shuichi had brought with him. "What in hell do you think this is? A hotel?!" In his raving, the man had not been as careful as one under the influence should have been, as his foot caught on a wayward t-shirt of Shuichi's. His already fragile hold on balance gone, the blond fell face first onto the wood floor.

Shuichi, who had been sitting on the couch glumly listening to Eiri rant, leapt to his feet and attempted to run to the man's aid. Attempted, as halfway there, he neglected the large pile of books/cd's/clothes between the sofa and Eiri's still form. With a small cry, Shuichi went sailing through the air, landing on Eiri's back with a small thud. 

Rubbing the soreness out of his head for the second time that day, Shuichi clamored off Eiri's back and rolled the man over, checking for any serious injuries. He slapped the blond on his cheeks a few times hoping to illicit a response, when the man's mouth opened, letting out a waft of alcohol-laced breath. 

"Ick…well, at least now I know why you were acting like you were…under normal circumstances there's no way you'd want me to go, is there?" the boy asked, shaking his head. He decided that at this stage, the best thing he could do would be to drag the man onto the couch and put a facecloth on his head, to keep the swelling down, and hopefully he would sleep it off. 

After much lugging, Eiri was finally on the couch and Shuichi decided that the older man, despite having the physique of a stick, was_ far too heavy. Shuichi sat down on the floor next to the couch and examined the man's face, seeing the makings of a fine bruise on his forehead. Why, he wondered, did the man do this to himself? Why did he drink away whatever he was feeling? Why didn't he try to share it, instead? Looking around the apartment, and again noting its lack of photographs of family effects, he realized. There was no one for him to share his feelings with. Except…_

         Shuichi, pleased with his own brilliance, ran off to the office, and eyed the laptop sitting closed on the desk. Temptation seized hold of him as he realized that this was the chance he had been waiting for: an opportunity to learn more about what was going on inside the older man's head. He waged a small moral battle as competing impulses raced through his head:

_         /This is his private work. Just reading it would be wrong…wouldn't it?/ _

_         /But he didn't respect _my_ private work…/_

_        /That was different! I was doodling at it in class…he had some rights to punish me. This would be just plain snooping./ _

_        /But then…if it is so private, it wouldn't' have been left out here where anyone could stumble across it, right?/_

_        /Right!/_

        Satisfied with his reasoning, Shuichi quietly grabbed the laptop and returned to the living room where he plunked down on the floor, cross-legged next to the sofa and the sleeping man. With the computer balanced on his left knee, he began to read. 

                                                                                                         ~~`~,~@

         At about 2 a.m., Eiri woke in a haze of confusion. He was on the couch, shirtless, and there was someone's head resting on his chest…someone who had pink hair…he groaned, remembering the course of the evening. Shuichi had shown up laden with what appeared to be every possession he had, shoving his way past Eiri and into his apartment, where Eiri had proceeded to make a jackass of himself raving and then tripping, knocking himself out because of a stupid t-shirt. 

Unsure of what to do, Eiri gently lifted the boy's head off his chest and leaned it against the arm of the couch as he sat up and took careful stock of the situation. It was the middle of the night, and his student was here, and he was…he was reading his work?! Who did that brat think he was? Eiri reached down and grabbed the laptop, yanking it roughly out of the boy's hands, jolting Shuichi out of his sleep and eliciting a syrupy-sweet "Ohayou…"

Shutting the laptop, Eiri got to his feet and headed for the kitchen, where he began to clumsily get water started for tea. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night. 

                                                                                                        ~~`~,~@

"Perhaps you might want to explain to me, from the beginning, what you're doing here with all that junk?" Eiri calmly asked, standing by the counter and making his tea. 

"I left home, Uesugi…sensei. I had to. And I didn't have anywhere else to go tonight." Shuichi replied, from his position on the couch. He surveyed the bland apartment, wondering why he felt more at home here after a few days than he had in the house where he had grown up. Of course, the place would need more color, that was for sure. A poster here, a nice throw pillow there…perhaps some photos of friends, family…a few plants…Shuichi continued to mentally redecorate, envisioning himself living here, eating dinner across the table from the most attractive person he'd ever met, surrounded by warmth, by love. 

"I expect this isn't going to be a permanent arrangement?" Eiri asked, sarcasm in his voice. 

"No, sir. I…I just wanted, I mean…you wanted to see me, and I thought…" Shuichi was suddenly feeling very small, his previous certainty that he would be welcome here now evaporated. 

"You thought…?" Eiri pressed, now pouring himself a mug. After a slight moment's hesitation, he reached for a second mug, and poured. Seizing both cups, he walked over to the sofa, where he joined Shuichi and passed him the tea. 

Grateful, Shuichi continued, trying to not blush at the sight of the shirtless older man sitting next to him. Eiri's proximity was bringing back memories of the weekend, and he had to work hard not to let himself get swept away remembering how the man tasted, how Eiri's hands felt running over Shuichi's body, and how those golden eyes had looked so deeply into his own. 

"I, um…I thought that you would understand. That maybe I could stay here for a few days until I can get in touch with my friend Hiiro and he can make arrangements for us to move into an apartment together. I thought that after everything that happened on the weekend, you wouldn't mind." Shuichi quickly gulped down some tea, darting his eyes away from Eiri's now stoic expression. 

Sensing the battle lost, Eiri changed tactics. "Why were you reading my work on my laptop? You had no right to it, you know." Pleased at the blush which colored the pink-haired boy's face, Eiri slightly smiled in spite of himself. 

"I wanted to…I mean…I wanted to know more about you! You're so damned cut off, you know? You don't let anyone in, and I thought…well, I always put into my lyrics what I can't actually say to anyone." 

"You're comparing my writing to your lyrics?" It came out colder than even Eiri intended, but Shuichi didn't seem to notice.

           "The story we read in Japanese class…you wrote it." Shuichi stated, expecting either some sort of denial or gloating on the part of his teacher. 

          "Yes, I did." He replied, flatly.

          "I liked it."

          "Really."

          "No, I, um…I more than liked it. I wish more than anything that I could write like you; that I could make people feel in my songs what you made me feel in your story." Shuichi braced himself for the comeback, but it didn't come. Instead, Eiri sipped down some more tea and eyed the boy thoughtfully, as if, for once, he was unsure of how to reply. 

           Feeling confident, Shuichi pressed on, "Eiri, why are you a teacher? Why do you do something you obviously hate when you have this much talent?"

"What would a kid like you know about talent?" Eiri asked, suddenly disturbed at where the conversation was heading. 

"I know that what you have shouldn't be wasted!" Shuichi placed his mug down on the coffee table and turned so that he was sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing the older man, his voice insistent. "I know that what you have is something that someone like me will never have, and that you should be sharing it, not hiding it."

"Writing is not exactly the most financially stable career, Shindou. I am much better off pursuing something with long-term security; something that will enable me to marry and support a family." Eiri replied, in a dead voice. 

"You sound like my father." Shuichi said, unaware of what impact those words would have. 

           Eiri gripped his mug tightly as his own father's voice rang in his ears, _/You must always first think of your future family, son. You must do what is right for not only yourself, but for them. It will not do to waste yourself on a dream or a selfish whim. You must work hard, and then you will be rewarded with a loyal wife and sons of your own/ _The reply which was never said mingled with his father's voice, closer to being voiced now than ever before: /I don't want a wife and children, you old fool! I want to live for myself, and I want to find the kind of love I want, not what you want for me!/

           "Uesugi? Uesugi, are you all right?" Shuichi leaned over and grabbed the man by the arm. His blank stare looked up at Shuichi, and with a shake of his head he was back from whatever parts of his mind he had been lost in. Shuichi, disturbed at seeing Eiri in this condition twice in one day, wanted nothing more than to take the man in his arms and hold him, but knew that if he tried he would only be pushed away. Suddenly struck with an epiphany, he dared a further question. "Uesugi, you lived with your family and studied in Kyoto until this year, right? Are you teaching because they wanted you to? Like my family wants me to be a salaryman?"

"My father would never allow me to write…" Eiri began, in a low voice. "There's no honor in wasting time on dreams…" Eiri let out a long sigh and looked at the boy next to him. "Can you see that, Shindou? Can you see how one can be compelled to live a life which is less than satisfactory pursuing a dream which is not of one's own making?"

In that moment, Shuichi could see. He could see the tiredness on Eiri's beautiful face, he could see the weight of the responsibility he bore, the battle he fought inside to continue with a life not his own and suppress all the talent and ambition that he had. And beneath the harsh surface of the older man's persona, he could see the beauty that he doubted anyone else could see with such clarity. With this realization there was a type of tightness in his chest that Shuichi had never before felt, joined by queasiness in his stomach and an overwhelming ache. 

          Unsure of what he was doing, but only knowing that he had no choice in the matter, Shuichi reached out his hands and cupped Eiri's face. Half expecting Eiri to pull away, Shuichi pulled himself up so that he was kneeling on the couch, leaned down, and pressed his lips to the blond's forehead. At first he could feel Eiri stiffen underneath his hands, but then relax under the boy's touch. Shuichi slipped his arms down around Eiri's shoulders and pulled him into his chest, holding him tightly. 

Eiri first impulse was to pull away from the unwanted embrace, but felt suddenly so tired that he lost the will to keep fighting against the concern Shuichi seemed insistent on having for him. Letting out a harsh breath, he leaned into Shuichi's chest, feeling the softness of the boy's hooded sweatshirt against his cheek and hearing the steady thud of his heart against his ear. He felt, just for that moment, at total peace.

Reason came crashing down around him as he extracted himself from Shuichi's thin arms, pushing him gently backward on the couch. Eiri get to his feet and crossed the room to the window, looking out over the lights of the city. His thoughts clearer than they had been in years, he turned to the boy on the sofa and spoke. "I had asked you here so that I could tell you that there could never be anything between us," he began, wondering why he felt such a heaviness inside at the words. "You seemed to think differently, and I wanted to stop it before it got out of control." 

Shuichi felt as if he had been slapped across the cheek; he actually pressed his hand against the side of his face. "You know…you…you…" swallowing hard, he somehow found the words to keep going, "you could still be a writer. I read your stuff, it's really good; when I read it you actually made me feel like I knew what love was. If you used a pseudonym, your father wouldn't have to find out."

Eiri felt his eyebrows shoot halfway up his forehead. "Did you not hear what I just said, Shindou?"

"Hmm...let me think…that's a good author's name…Jacques Dulac! Exotic, ne? Or how about something German, like Fritz Schwartz?" Shuichi had a teasing note in his voice, but it was obvious that his intention was serious. 

           "Baka" Eiri smiled, heading back to the couch. 

           "Well, what about just keeping Eiri? It's a good enough name, and it fits you. Hmm...family names, family names..."

           "This is pointless," Eiri said, as he sat back down and crossed his arms. 

           Struck by inspiration, Shuichi screeched, "YUKI!"

           Eiri flinched. "Nani?"

           "Yuki! It was my Ojisan's name; he was my favorite person in the world." Shuichi thought of his mother's brother, the one family member who fostered his love of music. It was he who had taught Shuichi keyboards, and who had told him to never, ever, give up his dreams. Shuichi hadn't seen him since he'd died about ten years ago, but he remembered his constant encouragement, his easy laughter. He was the one member of his family who Shuichi knew would have understood his decision to leave school and home for his band. 

           "Why?" Eiri asked, somewhat warming up to the suggestion, but determined not to let Shuichi see it, "He put up with your whining?"

           Batting away the insult, Shuichi continued, "That's it, it's settled! From now on, you're Yuki Eiri, the talented, sexy, up-and-coming author!"

           "Iie..." Eiri shook his head, smile hidden. "You know, it's getting late…we'd better get to bed if we're going to make it to school in the morning." Pushing himself off the couch, Eiri scooped up his beer-soaked shirt and padded down the hall toward the bedroom. As he reached the door, he paused and  asked over his shoulder, "Are you coming?"

                                                                                                          ~~`~,~@

Sunlight streaked in through the blinds, causing Eiri to squint. The first thing he saw was a teddy bear on the dresser across from his bed, the permanent smile stitched on in brown annoying him. He cringed as an impossibly genki voice called out from the kitchen, "Yuki! YUU-KI!! Wake up! It's time to work! Your bestseller won't write itself on that laptop!" 

             "Unn..." groaning, he rolled onto his back and sat up, taking stock of the situation. A lot of the night was a bit of a blur, but from the condition of the room it was fairly obvious what had transpired. The floor of the room was littered with clothes; the bedding a mess and the pillows strewn about. In sum, the normally tidy bedroom looked as though it had survived a small tropical storm. Only the teddy bear, with what looked like a note stuck under its arm, looked to have survived intact. 

            While Eiri continued to debate whether or not to get up, the source of the genki voice bounded into the room, "Rise and shine, sunshine!!!"

            His head pounding, Eiri reached around for a weapon with which he could stop the cheery noise. Seizing the first available object, he hurled it in the direction of the door. The pillow landed harmlessly at Shuichi's feet, as the boy laughed. "If you don't get up, I'm coming in there after you!" After a moment of stillness from the bed, Shuichi leapt at the pile of blankets, landing atop the blond buried beneath. 

                                                                                                         ~~`~,~@

            About an hour later, as best Eiri could judge, he sloughed off the last remains of sleep and sat up, looking down at the pink head sleeping on the pillow beside him. The kid sure does snore, he thought, amused. Eiri took a moment to ponder what insanity had propelled him to invite his student into his bed last night, before hauling back the covers and getting up, slipping into a stray pair of pants. As he hauled a shirt on over his head, he spied the wall clock which read 9:05. Great. Being late was exactly what he needed, in light of what had happened in the principal's office yesterday. 

            Leaning over, he grabbed Shuichi by the shoulders and shook him. "Get dressed."

            "Hn?" came the sleepy reply.

            "Get up. We've got to get going, we're late." Eiri walked over to his closet and pulled out a jacket and tie. 

           Shuichi sat up quickly, remembering where he was. "Shimatta! School!" He leapt out of bed, thankfully already dressed in his uniform from when he had been up earlier. Shuichi, not usually an early riser, had awoken around sunrise, and laid in the bed watching the blond sleep for a long time, slowly tracing Eiri's facial features with his index finger and nuzzling into his shoulder, thankful the older man was a heavy sleeper. At about 7, he had gotten up, dressed, and made some breakfast, which it now looked like they wouldn't have the time to eat. 

            "Yes, school. Now UP." Eiri slid on his watch and straightened his tie. Pointing at the dresser, he said quietly, "Don't forget that."

            A full blush rose to Shuichi's cheeks as he spied Oliver sitting atop Eiri's bureau. "I…I, um, left him here for you."

            "I don't need him." Eiri walked out of the room toward the door, casting a look around the now messy apartment.

            "But…everyone needs someone to hug, Yuki." Shuichi countered, following the blond. 

            "Don't call me that." Eiri said, unsure of how he felt this morning, but only wanting whatever had happened to be over, "You'd better run, or you'll miss all of first period." Eiri reached for his car keys and slipped on his shoes, saying sternly and with great certainty: "Shindou-san…this never happened. None of it. When I come home, I expect to find you, and all your possessions, including that ridiculous teddy bear, gone."

           The door slammed shut on Shuichi, as the boy crumpled to the ground. 


	6. Resignations

a/n: In response to some of my reviewers: sorry for the "cliffhanger" at the end of the last chapter–hopefully you'll get some resolution here. Thanks for reading, and giving feedback. It makes churning these parts out a lot easier knowing someone is at the other end looking at it   Also, I'm very sorry about the extended writers block I haven't abandoned this, really.

A final note: for the sake of getting this out to those of you who have been asking me where it is, this part is a bit shorter than the previous ones, however, that just means that there will wing up being more parts

**Chapter Six: Resignations**

Shuichi stared at the closed door until tears blurred his vision, the sound of its slamming still ringing in his ears. After a few moments of his sobs penetrating the silence, he wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and shakily got to his feet. Slowly, Shuichi started down the hall toward the bathroom, his arms wrapped around his thin body in an effort to stop shaking. The empty apartment which just moments before was going to be his new (albeit temporary) home now seeming foreign and imposing, and he felt small and insignificant in the face of the empty walls and hollow atmosphere. Not ready to leave for school and uncertain of what to do in light of the older man's pronouncement, he splashed some cold water on his face and attempted to get himself together.

He had never been more confused by anything than what had happened in the past few days. Eiri's behavior was almost near impossible to comprehend; at times it almost seemed as if he knew two different versions of the same man. Shuichi could see clearly the rigid armor he wore to keep people at arm's length, and he could understand the hesitation he might have at entering into a relationship with another man, and a student, no less. But what he couldn't figure was this continued denial of what was happening between them. It was so obvious, and so natural to Shuichi that they belonged together; why couldn't Eiri just stop fighting it?

Sighing to himself, he wandered over to the pile of clothes on the floor, and kneeled down to rummage through what he had grabbed from his closet at home. Suddenly, the school uniform didn't seem appropriate. No, not at all…if this was going to be one of the worst days in his young life, then at the very least, he could be comfortable.

With a determined smile on his face, Shuichi yanked out sweaters and skimpy shirts and amassed an outfit, slowly letting the memories from the night before creep into his mind, causing a blush to rise to his face. As he struggled to decide between purple and orange, he almost thought he could hear the voice of the older man as he asked,

"Are you coming?"

,

"What?" Shuichi's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open, his face instantly hot.

"It's a fairly straightforward question," replied Eiri, nonchalantly. "Are you coming to bed or not?" He stood at the end of the hall, his tall form framed in the light of the doorway to the bedroom, his blue shirt draped over one shoulder; hair tousled and feet bare.

Swallowing a lump in this throat, Shuichi meekly nodded and got up from the couch, his knees shaking slightly as he advanced on the older man. Eiri waited for him in the doorway, the barest hint of an amused smile gracing his expression. When Shuichi finally came up beside him, Eiri leaned down and gently kissed the top of his head, a reverse of their positions just moments before.

"Yuki, hmm?" Eiri murmured, his hand cupping the back of Shuichi's head. "I suppose…I suppose it's not the worse thing you've come up with."

Shuichi smiled brightly as butterflies swirled in his stomach. He knew, coming from the other man, that those words were high praise. He also knew, more than anything, that what was happening between the two of them was inevitable, was right. He instinctively leaned into Eiri's chest, pressing his face against the older man's skin and inhaled his scent.

"Ne, Yuki?" Shuichi asked, the words slightly muffled.

"What?"

"Maybe I could stay here for a few more days?" The words hung in the air for a moment as Shuichi held his breath, hoping he had not dared too much.

"We'll see." Eiri smiled and lifted his hand from Shuichi's head, softly pushing the boy away. He walked in to the bedroom and beckoned for the boy to follow him. Eiri padded across the smooth wooden floor, seemingly oblivious to the presence of the bear on his pillow. He went to the right-hand side of the bed and dimmed the lamp with one hand while undoing his pants with the other. With a casual sort of grace he slipped out of the pants revealing dark blue boxers. He then walked over to the small adjoining bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Relieved to have a moment alone to get Oliver out of sight, Shuichi scampered to the other side of the bed and quickly grabbed the bear which still sat smiling upon Eiri's pillow, untouched since that morning. Shuichi placed him on the dresser, where he hopefully would be discovered at a more opportune moment.

Shuichi was just tucking the note under Oliver's arm when the sudden sound of the door opening behind him gave him a start, causing him to emit a loud yelp. He whirled around to see Eiri standing on his side of the bed, clad only in his boxers with the sexiest expression on his face Shuichi had ever seen. 

"Jumpy, aren't we?" Eiri asked, his right eyebrow raised. Shuichi again felt his cheeks grow hot, and resisted the strong urge to stick his tongue out at the older man.

"Just a little, maybe" Shuichi smiled back, trying his best to act as if this whole situation were completely normal for him to be in. "Do you mind if I just sleep in my shorts, too? I don't have any pajamas with me" he asked, relieved that his voice remained steady.

            Eiri pulled back the crisp duvet on the bed and eased himself in. "Sure, whatever's comfortable. And for the love of god, relax. It's not as if I'm going to ravish you or something." With a small laugh the blond leaned over and turned the lamp off, and settled back into the bed, lying on his side facing away from Shuichi.

            Shuichi stood stock still for a full minute, wondering what was going on. He was so sure that Eiri's "invitation" had meant a bit more, and he had been nervously waiting whatever that might be, but this was…unexpected, to say the least. Had Eiri changed his mind? Or was he perhaps simply trying to set the younger boy at ease? Was it a simple act of trust that he allowed Shuichi to share his bed, and he had no other kinds of intentions toward him at all? Whatever the case, Shuichi started to feel stupid and self-conscious standing there with his mouth hanging open, so he slipped off his clothes and eased in next to Eiri, being careful to make sure that he did not touch the older man.

Shuichi curled up in what was almost a ball and tried to relax, taking deep silent breaths and hoping that sleep would come quickly. The unfamiliar surroundings and the gentle snores coming from beside him were conspiring against him, however, and his nerves remained on edge. Uncomfortable, he tested how much room he had and felt his insides jump as his leg grazed the other man's; and he quickly jerked his leg back so that it was firmly on his side of the bed. His heart pounding, Shuichi squeezed his eyes closed tight and tried to imagine himself somewhere, anywhere, else.

"Shuichi…" Eiri suddenly muttered, his back still turned to the boy, "Goodnight."

The nervousness quickly fading as a smile formed on his lips, he settled back into the pillows, closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. "Oyasumi, Yuki."

The boy fell asleep to the sound of Eiri's deep, steady breathing.

,

Last night's intimacy and the morning's playfulness represented something very important to Shuichi, and he was sure that on some level, it did to Eiri, too. Eiri just had to stop over-analyzing things and come to grips with them, because it seemed him as if whenever they would actually make any progress, the older man would pull a complete reversal and become an utter jackass. That situation was, all round, completely unacceptable to Shuichi. He was experiencing a type of feeling that he had never really known was possible to have for another person, and there was no way in hell he was going to give it up without some kind of fight, no matter how stubborn or cruel Eiri became.

Shuchi laced up his orange sneakers and then grabbed his bag, his decision made. There was really only one thing left to do, after all.

Go after his inspiration.

,

"Uesugi-san, thank-you for coming in on your lunch break." Tanaka-sensei greeted, in a sickingly warm voice. "Please, please, come in and have a seat," he said, gesturing to the empty chairs

"Thank-you." Eiri replied curtly, sliding into the uncomfortably all-too-familiar seat across from Tanaka's desk. "To what do I owe this 'invitation'? I'm assuming that you're not going to take me up on the offer I made yesterday?" he asked, snidely, knowing full well that he was tempting the older man's anger, and not caring.

            Ignoring the remark, Tanaka eased himself into his own desk chair and looked coldly at the other man. "It appears you have made more than just one enemy at this school in your brief time with us, Uesugi-san," the assistant principal began, his words carefully paced and laced with venom. He slid an innocent-looking manila envelope across the desk, and continued with a triumphant tone in his voice. "These were handed into me this morning. As you can see, the photos make my assumptions from our last meeting pointedly clear."

Eiri narrowed his eyes and reached forward, yanking out the contents of the envelope, his heart almost stopping as he started down at the image of him and what was unmistakably Shindou Shuichi in the hallway of the school, presumably during their brief encounter yesterday afternoon. He was leant over the boy, his head bent down and obviously whispering in the student's ear; the next image then showed clearly Shuichi entering his building that night.

"I'm sure they do." Eiri grated out. "Just who the fuck did you put up to this, hmm?"

"I'm sure I don't understand what you're talking about," Tanaka replied calmly.

            "And I'm sure you understand that spying on people is illegal, Tanaka-sensei. What I'm not sure is what you're trying to prove with these photos."

            "Oh, come now, Uesugi-san. It's plain that you were planning a rendezvous with that boy at your apartment. I also spoke with several other students in your class today, and they confirm that you have had several similar meetings with Shindou-san on school grounds. Surely one student would not give you so much trouble during your brief time here? There must be some other reason that he is warranting so much attention." Tanaka paused for a moment, and, not waiting for a reply, continued: "Unnatural behavior of this sort, especially on the part of our teachers, is something we do not tolerate at this institution, Uesugi-san" the assistant principal continued, his voice layered with both bitterness and pleasure at the power he held over the situation.

"If you resign quietly, you can save yourself the scandal, Uesugi-san. Also, think of the boy…you wouldn't want to drag his name through the mud with yours, would you?"

            Eiri's teeth ground together as his grip tightened on the photos in his hand. He knew that destroying them would do no good; surely there would be copies, and besides, he knew full well that if this kind of story got out any further there was no way he would be believed if he countered the allegations, which were mostly true, anyway. There would be a mess, and while he didn't really care what happened to him or his career, there was…

Shuichi.

Goddamn him!

,

"Uesugi-sensei, is it true?" Yamashita Michiru asked, panting from having run half way across the school. "They said you quit; are you really leaving us?" She stood in front of the teacher, who stood, briefcase in hand, obviously heading for the exit.

"It's true, isn't it? Why are you going?" Ayaka butt in, both burning for the gossip and disappointed to be losing what was inarguably one of the hottest men she had ever seen.

Surprised, Eiri paused, not really sure of how to reply. After a moment, he settled on a safe answer. "Yes, I'm going. This wasn't really something I wanted to do, anyway, and I'm sure your replacement teacher will be more suited to doing what this school wants. Just try to give them a bit of a challenge, hmm?" Eiri gave them a half smile and continued down the hall, after having hastily gathered his things from the teacher's room. When he thought about it, it probably was for the best that he got out of doing something with his life that he was only doing because his father had forced him into it. It was funny, though; if he hadn't met Shuichi through teaching he couldn't really imagine himself arriving at that conclusion. So, in a weird way, he owed his father a favor.

,

Shuichi prowled the crowded lunch-hour halls, certain that Eiri wasn't in the teacher's lunch room. As he rounded a corner and saw the dark blue suit jacket and blond hair heading down the hall toward the exit, he screwed up every ounce of courage within him and with the kind of exuberant confidence that makes people gasp, he stormed down the hall toward the blond.

"YUKI EIRI!" Shuichi shouted, not caring who heard, and not concerned with the consequences of what he was about to do. Running as fast as he could he planted himself in front of the older man, panting as he looked up into his eyes.

            Surprised, Eiri looked down into Shuichi's face and saw a naked emotion there that he had never hoped to see; a kind of trust and anger mixed together to form a bond between them that Eiri would do anything in his power to sever. The few seconds they stared into each others eyes stretched out between them, and Eiri could almost hear the boy's stubborn voice in his head:

/"There's something about you. I want...I want to look at you, to talk to you, to know you...I want you to be my song."/****

"Shindou, get out of my way." Eiri said coldly, resigned to not make a further scene and ruin Shuichi's singing career before it had a chance to start.

Just as stubborn, Shuichi held his position, determination marking his face.  His voice was firm as he said the words that some part of him had known were true from the moment he first laid eyes on the older man. "You're never going to be rid of me, Yuki Eiri," taking a deep breath, he continued, "I love you."

Eiri's head felt like it was going to explode as anger gave way to confusion; the voices surging to the surface once again threatening to drag him under. _/"Homosexual, Uesugi-san…attraction toward younger boys?"__/_

_/"you and your classmate Diasuke…shameful…"/_

_/"unnatural behavior..."/_

_/__"You're never going to be rid of me, Yuki Eiri./_

"Did you hear me? I said I love you!" Shuichi said again, reaching out to shake Eiri's arms.

_/"I love you."/_

Eiri roughly pulled his arms from the boy's grasp, no longer caring who heard or saw what was going on, only acting on the instinct that told him that he had to get away, no matter what the cost.

          "How many times will it take before it gets through the thick skull of yours?" he practically yelled, driven by fear and hurt, "You are an annoyance, nothing more. I only put up with your presence because I felt sorry for you and your disgusting crush. Now I all I feel is revulsion. You're pathetic. Leave."

          "DISGUSTING?!" Shuichi shouted, anger coursing through his body. "You didn't think it was disgusting when you were kissing me or when you were sobbing into my chest!" Pausing only to catch his breath, he continued yelling, "What is wrong with you, anyway? Are you that damned afraid to have someone close to you that you need to destroy everything that might be good in your life?"****

         "You have no idea what you're talking about. You're just a dumb kid. Now, for the last time, get out of my way or I'll plow through you.

         "So what, I'm some dumb kid but I'm good enough to invite into your bed?!" Shuichi shouted. He ignored the gasps which followed his outburst, and batted away Hiiro's arm which had come down firmly on his shoulder. True to his word, the blond narrowed his eyes and shoved his way past Shuichi, practically knocking the boy to the floor. As he tore down the hall toward the exit, Shuichi yelled at his back, "If you're going to end it like this, then YOU'RE the pathetic one, not me—at least I was willing to try!"

        As the double doors closed behind the man a raw, angry cry let loose from deep within Shuichi, and he collapsed against Hiiro. He cried for several minutes, staining his friend's uniform and near-choking on his own sobs.

Composing himself, he stood up straight and picked up his backpack. He wiped his nose, and, with as much dignity as he could muster, walked down the hall past the stares, whispers, and catcalls. And as he left the building, entering the warm spring afternoon he said softly to himself, "That's twice you've made me cry in one day, damnit. Just you wait, Yuki Eiri. You'll regret throwing me aside like this."

,


	7. The Gravity of Love

**A/N: I seem to be having some formatting problems with this new documents thingy that the siteis using. If I can get it to look right I will fix it, as it is I thought it was better get the text up rather than play with it endlessly trying to get it to look right :) For now, a bunch of "ooo"s are the line-breaks **

I want to thank all of my readers and reviewers, and give my thanks to those of you who stuck with this fic for so long and how encouraged and threatened me to finish it :) You have no idea how much such support can shake some confidence into someone and motivate them to thinking that their fic is actually worth writing. Thanks a bunch, love you lots.

From my rudimentary understanding of Japanese, the honorific "sensei" which generally refers to teachers, can also be used for other people in positions of respect such as doctors and authors. I'm using it here for Yuki to show that the public are affording him a certain level of respect, not that they know of his past as a teacher :)

The first song is "Angel's Song" is from the film "Rock n' Rule", the second is "The Gravity of Love" by Enigma.

Anyway…here it is, such as it is. Thanks for the ride.

ooo

The heat of summer faded into a crisp fall and a cold winter, and with the change in season came the steady rise of Bad Luck as one of the top up and coming pop bands in the country. While fame and fortune had not "fallen out of the sky and landed in his lap" as Hiiro had once teased, Shuichi had worked hard at NG and earned a spot as a budding idol, with the "Rage Beat" becoming a bestselling single. His voice, now even more of a tour de force than it had been in high school, sang out from radios around the country, and their first large concert tour was set to begin. If things kept how they were…then maybe, someday…Bad Luck would take it's place among the top pop bands in the country.

Shuichi and Hiiro, with their new genius keyboardist, Fujisaki Suguru, had spent months writing lyrics, composing arrangements, tearing through rehearsals, slowly gained a dedicated and growing following. Though Shuichi had found it hard to give up keyboards, he found a new contentment in focusing on lyrics and singing, and found that with more time being dedicated on honing his craft he was becoming a better and stronger musician everyday, and the gratification the fans in the sweaty clubs in Tokyo where they made their rounds heaped upon the band definitely seemed to agree.

Shuichi's initial fears about the stage also seemed to evaporate, and he found that the only times he felt anything close to true happiness were on the stage when the lights hit his face, and he was embraced by the heat and crackle in the air. The energy of the crowd and the beat of the music lifted him above his pain, and he felt free and almost whole. Almost—for no matter how his music made him feel he always felt as though he were missing a vital piece of himself. A piece that was forever captured in a song about cigarette smoke and blond hair that he now refused to sing, though many of the band's original fans who saw them play at the music competition in his old high school requested it.

December brought a chill to the air and Shuichi shivered as he made his way down a busy shopping street, looking for a birthday gift for his sister. She was the only family member he kept in contact with, as his parents had all but disowned him now that he had turned his back on his education. Her weekly calls, though nosy and sometimes overbearing, bolstered his spirits as it was obvious she cared about him fiercely and somehow knew that he was nursing a broken heart. It was only fitting then, he thought, that he make sure that he took some time off work and find her something really special.

As he stopped at a traffic light, he smiled as something fluttering in the air caught his attention; as unlikely as it was for this time of year, it was a small yellow butterfly flittered in the breeze, so like the one he had seen many months ago, on the day he stood on the school roof with Hiiro and his friend had teased him about his options for the future. Salaryman or songwriter. Convention or courage. It was, from all appearances, a cruel choice: to have the life that his family wanted for him, of safety and security and an eventual family with a wife and children, or to give up everything that was wanted for him by others and follow his own path.

In the end, it was the easiest choice he had ever made.

After Eiri's cruel public rejection he had picked himself off the floor and walked out of the school building, with his head held as high as he could hold it, knowing he would never return to face the stares, the rumors, the judgment. The two months stretched out between himself and graduation might as well have been an eternity, and while Hiiro deftly balanced exams and their commitments at NG, Shuichi threw himself into his music with a frenzy and a dedication that would have surprised the teachers who had once written him off as a hopeless case.

He tried to put all of his energy into his work, knowing that somewhere inside he was trying to prove himself to the toughest critic of all; not his parents, not the executives at NG, not even Eiri, but rather, his own ambition. He wanted to create something more than the snivel-y and naïve lyrics he had sung with such gusto on the high school stage. He wanted to create something more; something like what Ryuichi Sakuma had created: something immortal. Something that would finally show everyone, including himself, that there was more to him than the kid who dropped out of school and the kid that was rejected by a man that meant more to him than even his songs.

After his last meeting with Eiri, Hiiro had taken care of everything, as he so often had for the pair. He walked out of the school beside Shuichi, and slowly, they made their way to the apartment Hiiro had managed to sublet from his brother's ex-roommate. On the way, Shuichi let the story trail out of what had happened between himself and Eiri, and Hiiro listened with a sympathetic ear, hating Uesugi Eiri with every fibre of his being. He vowed at that moment that no matter what it took, Shuichi would find happiness and if getting their band to number one would do it, well…nothing would stop Hiiro in making it happen.

The apartment they finally reached was small, the bedrooms little more than closets, and smelled of cats and moldy fruit…but it was, at last, home. Hiiro made a shrug as if apologizing for the tiny set of stuffy rooms, but Shuichi smiled brightly for the first time all afternoon as he looked at the large window and pointed to a spot against the wall where the sun shone in.

"There," he said, turning to his friend. "My desk, it's going there. And my keyboard. And I'm going to write our first hit at it."

Hiiro had laughed, and nodded. "I bet you will," he said. The pair stared at each other for a long moment, and Shuichi felt warmed knowing that now, at last, he had a home where he would never be hurt, never be cast aside or thrown out. As he surveyed the rest of the room, Hiiro picked up his backpack and said, "Now…you settle in, I've got some errands to run."

Shuichi sat down cross-legged on the hard floor and wordlessly, reached into his backpack and pulled out a key, the tag reading "658." He extended his arm toward his friend and with his eyes asked Hiiro to do the one thing that he could not do himself. To face Eiri one more time, and bring his things from the man's house to their new, small home.

Hiiro returned later that evening with everything of Shuichi's, and never spoke of whether or not the blond man was present in the apartment when he was there to pack up. He also didn't explain why he had not brought home Oliver, who he had picked up and placed gently on the older man's pillow. Let him see it, he thought, and let the bastard remember how much he had thrown away.

ooo

Shivering, Shuichi continued down the busy street, watching the butterfly disappear into the crowd. Clad in a garish orange vest and with his now near-famous pink hair concealed under a large grey cap, Shuichi he shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and dodged shoppers, as the pedestrian traffic grew notably thicker. A large cluster of women and teenage girls were gathered on the sidewalk up ahead, their excited chatter carried on the breeze. Shuichi, his interest piqued, lowered the cap on his head and made his way to the back of the crowd to see what all the fuss was about. If there was a new product out that all these women were so excited about, maybe it would be something his sister would like.

"Can you believe how gorgeous he is?" one girl in a school uniform sighed, clutching a book to her chest. "I've read mine three times already!"

"Three times? It just came out two days ago!" an older woman exclaimed, jealousy evident in her voice. "I wasn't able to get a copy yet" she continued, sounding bitter. "I've brought a magazine with Yuki-sensei on the cover that I'm hoping he will sign." She flashed around a glossy magazine and Shuichi caught a brief glimpse of a blond on the cover.

Shuichi stiffened and craned his neck forward, moving with the group as it surged forward, the doors of the shop they had gathered in front of opening wider. _Yuki-sensei?_. .No way…it had to be a coincidence, he reasoned, standing on his tip-toes to try to see over the heads of the girls in front of him.

"Well…" the girl replied to the woman, "You can have a peek at mine if you want while we wait, by the looks of this crowd it's going to be forever!" The older woman eagerly grabbed at the proffered book, and began flipping through the pages.

That's it! Shuichi decided, unable to see the cover and near dying of curiosity. Never one for patience, he pushed his way to the girl and the older woman and asked, "Excuse me, what is it that is going on here? Who are you all talking about?"

The older woman snorted in disbelief, almost dropping the thick book. "Who are we talking about!"

"Where have you been, under a rock?" the girl admonished, shaking her head.

It was partially true, actually; Shuichi had been incredibly busy with his work at the studio and getting the new album ready, and whatever time he didn't spend there he spent at his keyboard in his tiny apartment writing new songs or refining existing ones. He had little time to follow the news, and didn't even own a television, and had little interest in the papers.

Shuichi shrugged apologetically, and smiled. The girl, exasperated, continued, "You can't have not heard of Yuki-sensei, he's the most amazing, sweet, sexiest new romance writer in Japan!" She reached out and took the magazine from the older woman and thrust it into Shuichi's hands, pointing at the unmistakable face on the cover. The same crisp features, the same shiny golden hair, the familiar piercing gaze. _Yuki Eiri Exclusive!_ the caption read.

Yuki Eiri. His Yuki. A writer? A _romance _writer?

Stunned, Shuichi's mouth gaped open and his hands began to shake as they gripped the slim magazine. After a moment's silence, the older woman reached out and tried to take back the magazine, only to find the boy gripping it tightly in his hands as if it were a rare treasure. In their brief time together so many months ago now, Shuichi had no mementos, no photographs, no way to see the man he had loved to fiercely save in his memory. The image that stared up at him, and Shuichi stared down, shaking his head slightly. He really was as beautiful as he remembered; hell, he really had existed; he wasn't a dream or a fantasy or a delusion. Here he was. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but at the same time, as if someone had punched him in the guts.

The woman cleared her throat and finally pulled the magazine away, saying, "You know, if you want one so badly you can buy one inside, there's no need to try to take someone else's!"

Blinking hard, Shuichi looked from her to the magazine and to the bookshop they were waiting in front of and, in typical Shuichi fashion of plowing through whatever obstacle was in front of him, he bent over slightly, tucked his arms in to his chest, and moved forward through the crowd. He ignored the protests of the girls he shoved his way through, and within a few moments, was at the front of the line of the cashier, a magazine and a copy of the book which so many girls were drooling over clutched in his hand. As he checked out, he was so lost in his own thoughts and in such a state of shock he barely heard the cashier ask, politely as he handed Shuichi his bag of purchases,

"Will you be getting Yuki-sensei to autograph this book for your girlfriend, sir?"

"Eh?" Shuichi asked, snapping to attention. "Autographed?"

"Yes, sir, we're having an autographing session this afternoon; I'm sure you noticed the large crowd gathering in line to get to our second floor. Yuki-sensei is upstairs signing copies of the book you just purchased." The clerk spoke gently, as though he felt Shuichi were stupid to have missed the huge signs throughout the store advertising the event.

Shuichi craned his neck upwards, but could only see throngs of girls and women going up the stairs. Up there, so close…after all this time, within reach…was Yuki.

From somewhere deep within him a wretched sob let loose, and he fought his way toward the exit of the store, outright shoving his way through the crowd, not caring that his hat had come off, not caring that he was crying, not caring that several girls were slowly starting to say,

"Shindou Shuichi-san?"

"Where?"

"Is that Bad Luck!"

Instinct taking over, Shuichi clutched the store bag tightly and ran like hell.

ooo

Breathless, Shuichi collapsed on a park bench and tried to find some semblance of calm. As he breathed in and out steadily, he felt his heart rate slow and his dizziness began to fade. Feeling better, he slowly reached inside the bag and removed the book that he had not stopped to examine in the busy store.

The cover, a smooth, crisp white, bore the title in a blank, inky-looking elegant scrawl:

"_Inspire Me: an epic of courage, heartbreak, and true love"_

_by Yuki Eiri_

So it was true, he thought. Eiri had written a book, at last, and, for some puzzling reason, had adopted the pseudonym that Shuichi had bestowed upon him. He closed his eyes and remembered that night when he had lain there in the soft bed, breathing in the other man's scent and feeling safer and more content than he had ever thought possible.

_/"That's it, it's settled! From now on, you're Yuki Eiri, the talented, sexy, up-and-coming author!"/_

_/"Don't call me that./ _

Shuichi chuckled softly, remembering how adorable the blond looked when he was scowling, and when he was so obviously doing it on purpose. Shuichi didn't fool himself to think that the story was about him and his brief relationship with the older man. Hell, even "relationship" was a stretch to call it, considering how little it must have meant to Eiri. But then… why…why had he kept the name? Was it even possible that Shuichi and his "silly" encouragement about becoming a writer meant more to Eiri than he had let on?

His hands shaking, Shuichi flipped the book over and there, on the back cover, was a black-and-white photograph of the author, leaning against a wall, his arms crossed, his expression intense. Shuichi could see in the background that the picture had been taken at a temple, and he wondered if it could have been taken at his family home. Had Eiri returned to Kyoto to write despite his father's objections?

Shuichi knew that the man no longer lived at his old apartment; he would never tell Hiiro, but there were so many nights when Shuichi would walk past the building on purpose, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eiri through a window or coming and going into the apartment complex. One day, when momentarily struck by insanity, he had walked up to the entrance and almost pressed the call button for Eiri's apartment, to find that the nameplate next to 658 now read "Yamashia, N." Eiri had moved, and Shuichi had no way of finding him. Now he started to wonder if maybe he had left the city altogether, and maybe if he was back signing books he could…

"No!" Shuichi said out loud, shoving the book back into the bag with the magazine. "There is no way I'm doing this again!" He leapt to his feet and headed toward his apartment, shaking his head. He had spent too long mourning Eiri, too long trying to forget him and too long realizing that his broken heart might never mend. There was no way, no way in hell, that he was going to start this up again.

No.

ooo

"Tadaima!" Hiiro called, heaving several bags of groceries into the apartment and shutting the door behind him with his left foot. The set of rooms now bore little resemblance to the bare, smelly place they had first rented. Posters of Nittle Grasper graced the walls, and strings of multicolored and chili lights hung from the ceiling. Stacks of manga lined the small bookshelf, and the area around Shuichi's keyboard and desk was rife with papers and sound equipment. It was amidst this clutter that Hiiro found Shuichi sitting, tapping out a somber melody on the keys and humming softly.

"Hey," Shuichi replied, not looking up from his hands. He waited, wondering how long it would take Hiiro before he saw the book and magazine which Shuichi had strategically placed on the low table in the centre of the room. He could hear Hiiro rummaging around with groceries, and as he crammed food into the tiny cupboards, he chatted about his day, about his lunch with Suguru and about the rumors of a possible Nittle Grasper reunion.

When the last bit of news failed to rouse anything from the other man but "uhh-huh", Hiiro knew something was drastically wrong. Looking again in Shuichi's direction, his eye caught the book on the table, and he made his way toward it.

"Shuichi…what is this doing here?" Hiiro asked, turning the book over in his hands and shaking his head. Shuichi whirled around in his chair.

"Did you know, Hiiro? Had you heard anything about this?" he asked, his purple eyes wide.

Hiiro swallowed hard. "I was trying to think of the best way to tell you," he began. "I saw him on television the other day, when I was visiting my parents. My mom was raving about this new author and said I had to come watch this interview with her. I was meaning to say something I just didn't know how." he trailed off, hating the expression of sadness he saw in his friends eyes and once again was filled with contempt for Eiri.

"I see," Shuichi said, looking down at his lap. Hiiro slammed the book down on the table and walked over to his friend, who he grabbed by the shoulders and shook.

"You don't do this again to yourself!" he cried, his grip tightening. "You are worth more than this, Shuichi! You are worth more, you are worth everything…please, don't…" Hiiro trailed off and dropped to his knees on the floor, his face level with Shuichi's, his hands still holding his shoulders. After a moment's silence, Hiiro drew Shuichi into an embrace, and let Shuichi cry.

The pink-haired man leaned in to Hiiro's chest and let the tears come, part of him wondering why he had never let Hiiro hold him like this before. Hiiro had never hurt him, had never judged him, and had never thrown him away like an old shoe. He would never make Shuichi hate himself, would never treat him as though he were unworthy of affection or love. After everything, the home he had wanted he finally had, here.

But yet…

As the warm, strong arms held him, he saw in his mind a flash of blonde hair and the scent of cigarettes and rich cologne; heard the deep, rich voice of Eiri and knew, once again and irrecoverably that he had, did, and always would, belong with only one person. His Yuki.

Hiiro's hand twined in Shuichi's pink hair, and his breath was warm on the other man's neck, but whatever moment had passed between them was over. Shuichi sniffled and gently began to pull away, his hands cupping his friend's face as he did so. "Hiiro, thank-you. I'm sorry, I can't, I don't…"

"It's okay" Hiiro interrupted, getting to his feet. He felt something strange inside, and whatever it was, it was fiercely protective of Shuichi and knew that at whatever cost, his younger friend would not be hurt more by him. Whatever feelings he might have he would sort them out on his own, but he could not drag Shuichi into them. If he did so, he would only make a mess of things, and further complicate matters beyond repair.

Turning toward the small kitchen, which consisted of a hotplate and a rice-cooker, Hiiro asked, as though nothing had happened, "Now…what do you want for supper? We have ramen, ramen, or ramen."

"Hmm," Shuichi said, a smile returning to his face. "I think I'll have ramen, please."

"Coming right up!" Hiiro laughed, grabbing a bag of chicken noodles out of one of the shopping bags.

Shuichi turned back to his keyboard, turned up the volume, and began to crank out an upbeat and fast melody. Somehow, all the hard and painstaking effort it had taken him over the last few months to write music seemed to disappear, and as he looked down at the magazine cover he felt that he had once again found his song.

ooo

The shouts and rhythmic clapping of the sellout crowd at the concert hall could be heard straight through to the dressing rooms backstage, where Bad Luck was anxiously getting ready to take the stage. Rather, the band's manager, Sakano, was anxiously pacing around tapping his watch and hovering over Suguru's shoulder while they waited for Hiiro and Shuichi to emerge from their dressing room, where the duo were preparing for the performance.

"What the hell are they doing in there!" Sakano cried, yanking at his hair. "They're late! At their first sellout concert, they're late! If the boss sees this I'll be fired!"

"Sakano-san!" Suguru chided the band's neurotic manager. "Calm down, please. They will be out here on time, they wouldn't miss this for anything."

Sakano paced back and forth a few more times, then, with an elaborate twirl, threw himself against the dressing room door. "I know you are in there!" he cried, hammering the entrance with his fists.

"Sakano-san! Stop this immediately!" Suguru demanded, his hands on his slim hips. "Do you want to disturb them while they are preparing for the show and make them perform badly?" Sakano immediately jumped back from the door and resumed pacing, taking his pulse with two fingers as he breathed heavily.

Inside the dressing room, Hiiro calmly flipped through television channels and picked at his guitar as Shuichi put the finishing touches on his outfit for the show. Now known for his wild outfits and hair as much for his powerhouse voice, Shuichi hadn't wanted to disappoint: tonight he was sporting his old black bitch boots, pulled over tight red shiny pants. He wore a sleeveless black and red print vest with no shirt underneath and which exposed a fair bit of mid-drift. Black fishnets covered his arms, which had been fashioned into full-arm length fingerless gloves. His pink hair, now having grown out a fair bit, was partially held back in a short pony-tail at the back of his head, with several shaggy strands hanging down to frame his face. And, as a finishing touch…his sister's red boa laid over his shoulders, which he had almost worn the first time Bad Luck took the stage.

Shuichi posed in front of the full length mirror and dabbed on a bit of sparkly lip gloss, and wondered if he needed more accentuation around the eyes. The fact that he was thinking such things made him laugh. If anyone had told him eight months ago that he would be getting ready to play to a sellout concert hall, he probably would have laughed in their face. He thought of himself settling into winter mid-term examinations at university at this time of year and shuddered--how on earth could his parents have not wanted this life for him?

Satisfied with his appearance at last, Shuichi spun around, and cried out, "Hiiro! I'm ready!"

"Hn," Hiiro said, still channel surfing. Shuichi was used to this by now; before all their smaller club shows Hiiro seemed to need some time completely to himself to either get ready for performing or to calm his nerves. Still, Shuichi pouted and bounced across the dressing room to poke his friend in the shoulder until he got some attention.

"Look, look! I'm READY!" he said again, his genki demeanor now at epic levels. He took one end of the boa and tickled the side of Hiiro's face with it, causing his friend to drop the remote and sputter, raising his hands defensively.

In the minute that the television sat still on one channel, the voice of a female night-time talk show host blared out into the dressing room: "Good evening, folks! If you're just joining us, you're in for a real treat: tonight we're interviewing the popular best-selling new author, Yuki Eiri, who has just been awarded two national prizes for literature. Yuki-san, this is a major accomplishment for a first novel, and from one so young, it's unheard of. What was your inspiration for this work?"

The camera flipped to the blond author, who sat uncomfortably on a couch across from the interviewer. Eiri hated interviews like this; he had not expected so much publicity from the release of his first novel. While it was encouraging to know that his work had been well received, it was also annoying as hell that his privacy had been so interrupted, and the more commitments his agent piled upon him, the more he wondered how long it would be until someone connected him with the cold man who had served a brief stint as teacher under the name Uesugi Eiri. If anyone had so far, they had not made such knowledge public, and for that Yuki gave silent thanks every day, not for his sake, but for Shuichi's.

Though he had went into near seclusion in his new Tokyo loft apartment, he knew that the younger man's career was starting to really take off, and he dreaded to think of the possible scandal that could erupt if anyone connected the new author and singer together because of their brief encounter at the school last year. Despite his many statements that Shuichi had no talent and despite his coldness toward the pink-haired man, every time he heard Bad Luck's single on the radio in his car he turned up the volume as loud as his eardrums would stand, and would grip the steering wheel tight, sometimes biting his lower lip so hard he would taste blood. It was as if he felt he must punish himself somehow, but he didn't really know why. He knew one thing though: for all his childish dreams and all of his genki encouragement, Shuichi had made it. And someday, he would somehow understand why Eiri had left him alone.

The television was silent for a moment, as the camera flipped back to the host, who nervously laughed as her guest remained silent. In the dressing room, Hiiro and Shuichi likewise were silent, staring wordlessly at the screen, Shuichi's hand gripping Hiiro's arm tightly.

"Yuki-san?" the host asked, glancing to her notepad and back to her silent guest. "Let me rephrase the question: what inspires you to write? Where do you get your ideas?"

A flash of pink hair and purpley eyes entered Yuki's mind and he pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, and then looked back to the host, a cold glare in his eyes. "My stories just come to me, I can't say from where. It's too hard to explain to those with no creative vision."

More inane laughter from the host and the audience grated on Yuki's nerves. "Well, that's um...understandable, isn't it? Now Yuki-san, tell us, how are you coping with your sudden fame?"

Hiiro grabbed the remote control off the dressing room floor and Shuichi reached out and took it from his hand. Shaking his head, Hiiro said, "Damnit, Shuichi, turn off that crap. This is the last thing we need to see right now."

Shuichi nodded, but yet kept staring at the screen and at the face which he could see held so much hurt. He had wanted so badly to bring color to Eiri's grey world, to bring life to a man who seemed blind to the possibility of any joy. And, in his naiveté, he had failed, and yet…he had somehow succeeded, for there Eiri sat, an author--though it was obvious that it had not brought him peace or happiness.

"Shuichi, please, lets turn this off and get out there, they are waiting for us, okay?" Hiiro asked again, more gently this time.

Shuichi smiled and swallowed hard. "I knew he would do it, that he would write. Look at him, Hiiro. He's so beautiful."

Hiiro snorted. "He's a prat."

"Hiiro!" Shuichi cried, swatting his friend on the arm.

"Come on Shu, look at how full of himself he is! Why can't he ever answer a question straight without his ego getting in the way? That poor host looks like she wants to sink through the floor!"

It was true, but the slight woman bravely went on, asking questions from her notepad to her icy guest. "Yuki-san, there has been a lot of buzz about the dedication inside your book, a lot of young ladies are wondering to whom you meant it!" The audience cheered as the host picked up the book and opened the cover, reading aloud, "'_For bubblegum hair, purple eyes, and horrible pancakes'_" she put the book back down on the table in front of her and leaned toward Eiri, asking, "Now, Yuki-san…surely you can tell _us_ who this lucky lady is!"

Shuichi's face turned a deathly pale and his jaw dropped as the words were read aloud. Having decided that he wasn't ready yet to read what Eiri had written, he had never even opened the cover of the book. He sat limply down in a chair and said softly,

"He's not full of himself, Hiiro, he's afraid. Can't you see it? He thinks that people won't like him, and won't understand him, that's why..." he trailed off, as if suddenly struck with a profound realization of truth.

"Shuichi?" Hiiro asked, waving his fingers in front of his friend's eyes.

"That's why he pushes everyone away!" Shuichi shouted, his eyes wide and excited. "Hiiro, don't you get it! That's why he pushed me away, it wasn't because he didn't love me! He was just afraid of loving me! He doesn't _not _want me, he left because he _does_ want me! He needs me!"

"Shui–"

"YUKI!" Shuichi cried, leaping to his feet and running for the door. Hiiro leapt to his feet, and tackled the pink-haired man.

"Shu! Where on earth are you going!" he asked, struggling to hold the singer still.

"To that TV station! Yuki is there now, I have to go to him! Didn't you hear that, 'for horrible pancakes'! That's me!" Shuichi wiggled his slender and wiry frame free and burst open the door, plowing over Sakano, who had been nervously listening at the door. When he saw that his singer was trying to make a headlong break for the exit, he let out a piercing howl and lunged at the floor in front of Shuichi, hoping to slow him down. Hiiro came barreling out of the door behind his friend, and bellowed out,

"STOP! We have concert which begins in exactly 3 minutes! You aren't running off anywhere until after you've sung for the thousands of adoring fans who've been waiting to see you! Do you want to disappoint them?"

That did it. Shuichi stopped, stumbled over Sakano, and landed on the floor flat on his face. He slowly got to his feet, sputtered, and began, "But..."

"No 'buts!'" Hiiro said, extending his hand to help the singer get to his feet. "Get out on that stage and show these people the concert of their lives! THEN, you may run off like some maniac after the man you love. With our blessings."

Suguru helped Sakano stand up and joined in with eager nodding. "Yes, Shindou-san, we must perform our concert! We will all help you if you need it afterward to find whoever this is."

Shuichi looked to the faces of his friends and to the desperate face of his manager, and heard the clapping and cheering of the crowd. He breathed in deep and stuck his fist up in the air, exclaiming, "You're right! First the show, and then...YUKI'S MINE!"

ooo

Seguchi Tohma surveyed the crowd with pleasure, and tapped his left foot to the beat of his new band giving the best debut concert he had seen since Nittle Grasper. Joining him in his private box in the concert hall was his wife, Mika, Shindou's sister Maiko, and his old friend, Noriko, whom he planned to ask to help the band's arrangements on their upcoming album. Tohma glanced at his watch, wondering when his last guest would arrive; his brother-in-law. As Tohma understood, he would be coming here directly from a television studio nearby, so he was expected about midway through the show. As intermission began, Tohma heard the unmistakable rich voice of Uesugi Eiri—scratch that, he reminded himself, _Yuki _Eiri, enter the box.

"So Tohma," he asked, surveying the scene, "This is the band I just 'had' to see, hm?" No one would know it, but Eiri felt so nervous he was about to throw up. He was certain that the singer knew nothing of Eiri's connection to his employer, and furthermore, he knew that the chances that Eiri would be spotted in the private box were next to nothing, but still…being here, so close to Shuichi, was…unsettling, at best.

He still wasn't sure why he had accepted Tohma's invitation to the show. He had wracked his brain thinking of excuses why he couldn't make the concert, and felt that there was no legitimate reason to refuse the outing other than his past with the lead singer, something he wanted to remain secret at all costs. So, he reasoned, to avoid suspicion, he must jump into the lion's den, as it were. Momentarily wishing he had dyed his hair black to blend in with the crowd, he sat down in the seat Tohma offered, next to his own in the front row of the box.

Tohma and he made polite conversation for a few minutes, when a girl, obviously on her way back from the concession stands, entered the booth. Eiri stood to introduce himself, when his voice died in his throat. She was young, about twenty, he guessed, with brown, bouncy hair and large, purpley-blue eyes. Eyes he would recognize anywhere; eyes so like Shuichi's that he felt dizzy.

"Hajimemashite!" She said politely, bowing. "My name is Shindou Maiko."

Eiri nodded politely, glancing to Tohma and back to the girl. Shindou's sister, she had to be. "Er..hello. Hajimemashite. I'm Yuki Eiri," he said, giving a short bow and then extending his hand. She took it with a large smile, and tipped her head to one side.

"Of course I know Yuki-san," she said brightly, causing Yuki's heart to stop for a second. Had Shuichi told her about them? "Yuki-san is very popular with young women nowadays," she continued, and Eiri breathed and audible sigh of relief. He let go of the girl's hand and gestured that she should take a seat next to him, finding himself oddly comforted by her presence, but also feeling that he was playing with fire to talk with her much more. What would happen if she told her brother that she just happened to meet Yuki Eiri at his concert? What would he think? Would Shuichi even know who Yuki Eiri was? Would he remember?"

"Yuki-san missed a very energetic set earlier," Maiko said, settling into her seat. "My brother, Shuichi, down there?" she pointed toward the stage, "he said that this one will be much more emotional and powerful," she said proudly.

The lights went down and, to wild whistles and cheers, Bad Luck again took the stage, this time giving a softer set of songs. Shuichi, who looked as at home in front of the microphone as he did laying on a sofa, grabbed the microphone and, in a rich, moody tone, sang:

_Now for all you'll ever know  
That you've never seen me  
And someday you're gonna show  
What your one desire means  
Now I'll only set the stage  
Focus lights on me  
I'll make sure the power's on  
On the scenery_

_Oh, what will the signal be  
For your eyes to see me?  
Watching off sides as I wait  
Just in case you need me?  
So I still will set the stage  
Send my thoughts to you  
I'm receiving every wave  
The sound, send love through_

The words the singer sang seemed to pour out of his throat and shoot directly into Eiri, just as they did the first, and only, other time he had seen Shuichi perform. Eiri felt his chest tighten as tried to conceal his face from view of the stage without looking like he was trying to do so. Where these words meant for him? As Shuichi gyrated toward Hiiro on the stage who broke into a ripping guitar solo, Eiri watched the chemistry between the pair and felt a possessive growl in his throat. It had been, what…seven moths? eight?

Eiri suddenly felt stupid. It was like part of him wanted Shuichi to move on with his life but the rest of him was angry and gutted by the thought that that might have happened. That Shuichi might ever sing a love song that wasn't for him.

The song ended, and Eiri alone sat in stony silence as the crowd went wild. Several more breathless, fast-paced songs later, and, once again, a hush fell as Shuichi soulfully broke into the final song of the night:

_Turn around and smell what you don't see  
Close your eyes ... it is so clear  
Here's the mirror, behind there is a screen  
On both ways you can get in  
Don't think twice before you listen to your heart  
Follow the trace for a new start  
What you need and everything you'll feel  
Is just a question of the deal  
In the eye of storm you'll see a lonely dove  
The experience of survival is the key…_

_  
To the gravity of love _

Eiri sat still and gripped the armrests of the chair, willing himself not to cry. He didn't cry, he never cried, he couldn't cry; not here, not now, not in public, not over some crappy love song sung by a silly, pink-haired, pop idol. Not when the song couldn't be about him, never about him, not after he had torn through any bit of self-confidence the boy must have had; not when he had cast him aside like a piece of garbage for doing nothing but encourage him and maybe even…love him?

"Yuki-san?" a voice said in his ear, straining to be heard over the shouts of the crowd. "Would you like me to walk with you to your car, Yuki-san?" Maiko asked, concerned. She didn't know what was going on with the man, but she was empathetic enough to see that there was pain there, so much pain. And she could see that all of it was being poured into a stare directed at her brother, who was making his bows on the stage. When Eiri did not respond, instinct took over, and she gently took the bond's arm, coaxing him to his feet. Tohma looked at the pair questioningly, and Maiko apologized, "I am not feeling well, Seguchi-san; Yuki-san has offered to escort me home."

Tohma smiled and nodded, waving the pair off, as Maiko, her grip on Eiri's arm firm, led him toward the exit of the box, away from the noise of the crowd.

On stage, Shuichi felt flushed and tired and yet high on the experience of a lifetime. He flung his arms around the shoulders of his band mates and the three took a final bow, shouting back at the cheering fans. Finally allowing himself to look up at the box where he knew his employer and his sister would be watching, Shuichi's eyes bulged as he saw the back of a tall, blond head walking out of the box with his…sister? Maiko looked back at the stage and waved enthusiastically at Shuichi, and then turned to leave the box with the man she was with. Such a familiar shape, and coloring...it couldn't be…

"YUUUUUUUUKI!" Shuichi cried leaping in the air a few times. His scream, unamplified as the microphones stood in their stands, was lost into the roaring of the fans, who buzzed in question as the singer suddenly turned around and ran from the stage as fast as his feet could carry him.

ooo

"Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki, Yuki!" Shuichi chanted to himself under his breath as he tore through the chaos of backstage, frantically looking for the exit. If Yuki had been a guest of Tohma, as unlikely as such a thing would be, he would be in the VIP parking section, the same spot the band's limousine would be waiting. Having been forced to memorize the route to the car in case a hasty exit was needed after the concert, Shuichi plowed through anyone who stood in his way, and made it to the parking lot in what was surely a time to rival an Olympic sprinter.

He blasted through the door at the same time that Eiri was unlocking the passenger side of his car for his sister. Surprised at the sudden burst of noise, Eiri dropped his keys, and bent to retrieve them. When he stood up, it was to see a panting, sweaty, and crimson-complexioned Shuichi, standing about five feet away from him.

"Shuichi!" his sister cried, her eyes wide. "How on earth did you get out here so fast? What about your encore?"

Shuichi gulped and continued to breathe heavily, and managed, "What? Maiko? How do you know…" he shook his head, and looked from his confused sister to the still form of Eiri, who looked as though he were a statue.

Sensing that there was more to the situation than she knew, and remembering the way the author had stared at her brother inside as though he were about to cry, Maiko backed up and said, gently, "I think I may have forgotten to thank Seguchi-san for his hospitality tonight. I'll be right back." She turned and reentered the concert hall, leaving the pair alone.

A long silence fell between the them, as they stared at each other, their minds registering the changes that had come to them both. As he looked at Shuichi, Eiri realized that they were no longer teacher and student, no longer even boy and man, as Shuichi had grown into a strong, confident adult somewhere along the way. It was the kind of change that happened quickly, and that was borne of pain and of sacrifice, and Eiri bitterly felt that he was responsible for the hurt he saw in the other man's eyes.

As for Shuichi, he looked at Eiri and again felt the bond between them that he had known the first time they had spoken. They were both artists; an author and singer, dreamers who had tried for too long to live lives predetermined by someone else. He had imagined in his mind a hundred, no, a thousand times what he would say to Eiri if they ever met again, and all of those rehearsed things flew out of his mind as the words popped out of his mouth,

"I suppose you think I'm still better off writing graffiti on bathroom walls?"

The corners of Eiri's mouth twitched, and Shuichi swore he saw a barest trace of a smile. "You've really got no talent, you know" the blond replied, shaking his head.

"Thank-you," Shuichi said, grinning. "I'll take that as high praise."

The pair could now hear the noise of rushing feet and yelling coming from inside, and knew that by now the fans had realized that Shuichi would not be returning to the stage for an encore, and that the crowd, the press, and his band mates would be hunting for him. Looking back to the door, Shuichi groaned and let out a sigh. He whipped back around when he heard the sound of the car door unlocking, and watched wordlessly as the blond got inside his sleek white sports car and started the engine. He felt for a moment terrified that it would all end like this, with Shuichi being dragged back inside by the press and with Eiri quietly driving away. It couldn't, it can't! he thought, feeling his heart sink down to his knees.

As he stood there, preparing to watch the man he knew he still hopelessly loved drive away, Eiri leaned across and opened up the passenger door, and asked in a deep, sexy voice,

"Are you coming?"

Shuichi froze, remembering those same words being spoken by Eiri so long ago, as he was framed in the doorway of the bedroom, his blond hair tousled and his eyes extending an invitation that Shuichi could never refuse. The same look he gave Shuichi now.

"Are you crazy?" Shuichi grinned, leaping into the passenger seat. He slammed the door behind him just as the concert hall door burst open, and photographer's camera's began to flash. Eiri tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing, and Shuichi began, uncontrollably, to laugh.

"Where are we going?" he managed, as Eiri headed out onto the main road.

"Home," Eiri answered, a small smile gracing his lips.

ooo

_End._

Many songs were involved in the creation of this story, and to give credit where it's due, thanks to:

The amazing voice of Kotani Kinya & the music of the Gravitation soundtracks;  
"Your Eyes" from the RENT soundtrack (Broadway & Film)  
"Visions of Paradise" by Mick Jagger;  
"The Gravity of Love" by Enigma;  
"Angel's Song" from the animated film "Rock n' Rule"

Listen to them, they are great :)


End file.
